


Reality Beckons

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-07
Updated: 2005-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: AU. Mulder's waiting for a visit. His POV





	Reality Beckons

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Reality Beckons

### Reality Beckons

#### by Lashala

  


Title: Reality Beckons (Sequel to What's In A Dream?) 

Author: Lashala 

Rating: NC-17. Probably not that bad but let's not take chances! 

Keywords: M/K, Slash, Angst, Romance 

Disclaimer: I don't own them but I wish I did. If you don't know what slash is or you're under age, go home! 

Summary: AU. Present time and Mulder's waiting for a visit. His POV. If you haven't read 'What's In A Dream?', this would be a good time to do that first. 

Spoilers: None really. Just a few random bits here and there on the boys' past encounters but definitely after their 'personal' moment. Yeah...the kiss. 

Archive: Sure...but ask first! I've heard some stuff and I don't like being mistreated so I'm going to check on things. 

Feedback: Thanks for all the high praise for my first work. Now I'm a bit excited and hopeful this meets the expectations. If so, I've got a more out there so feed me! . 

* * *

Number 42  
2630 Hegal Place  
Alexandria, VA  
Friday - Time Unknown 

I sit there as Kry... _Alex_ opens the door to my apartment and slips inside. Sitting on the sofa in the dark, only the fish tank's dimmed light to illuminate the living room, he can't see me. Good. I want to see his face when he realizes he's not alone. For once. 

I watch him walk around the coffee table to stop facing the tank and lift up the package of food. I can't help but smile. I _wondered_ why they hadn't started floating belly-up. I tend to forget them when I'm busy. Bless him for caring enough to keep the only thing living in here besides me on the mortal side. 

Shit! Did I just say 'bless him'?! I'm more fucked up about this than I thought. 

I've been dreaming about him...for weeks. Every night. Five in a row just recently. Dreaming about him...and me...in bed; the last dream left us making wild, passionate love like houses on fire. Dreamed about him telling me he loved me; always had and me responding, saying I loved him too. Then he fucked me...like a maniac and I loved...yes, I'm saying it...I _loved_ it! 

Oh...did I mention I was gay? No? Well...I guess I just did. I'll talk about that in detail later. I'm too busy right now gazing on the living version of _every_ gay man's fantasy and perhaps... _my_ reality. Finally 'Lady Luck' feels sorry for my ass. About fucking time! 

Honestly, it took _me_ some time to put it all together. I don't know if the dreams were a message or simply a manifestation of a deeper need - to resolve some of the shit between us - but I know now much of what Alex has done was beyond his control. Now, I think a lot of it was meant to _protect_ me, in a warped, twisted way; keep the Consortium and the _really_ bad guys off my ass as much as they would with me wiggling it in all their business. 

That ass wiggling cost us both - him more, he lost an arm because of me - and I've done nothing but make it worse. He should have killed me for that alone. Instead, he kept trying to help me; gave me info to keep me ahead of his boss (the one that smokes - 'Cancerman'), told me over and over what I was digging into might get me killed and still I never took the hint. Never gave him the benefit. Just bloodied my knuckles on his face and beat the shit out of him every chance I got. 

He barely fought back, barely defended himself. He's a trained killer, an assassin, killing's in his blood...but he never, _never_ really fought back. He gave me a few slugs just to remind me he could but never one that could have put me down and out for good. Instead, he often took every punch, kick, with little more than grunts and sobs. 

Now, I know why. He's in love... With me. That in itself answers a lot on why _I'm_ still breathing. 

I _should_ be dead, I should be. Killed by his hand but he's pulled a punch every time; not taken that final blow to cave my head in. Sometimes I have to remember how lucky I am, that his feelings for me keep me alive. Let me say this... _most_ people that have landed on Alex's 'shit list' were marked out long ago. In permanent ink. 

Except me. 

I've seen him handle weapons, popping rounds into everything from Sigs to AK-47's without even thinking; as natural as taking a breath and just as casual. Even _I_ have to take a moment to look at what I'm working with but Alex never looks. I believe you could lay out a table of every weapon ever built, press his fingertips to it only and he'd tell you just by the feel of the metal what it was, the number of rounds it can fire and even take it apart, clean it and put it back, all blind-folded. Believe me, Alex _knows_ guns. 

I've seen him use them too, and he's a clean shot. He once took out a man for me, guarding my six. He took him down with one shot, between the eyes, from a good distance. I should have realized then. I didn't. Even with all my training, I'm not always _that_ good. _He is_. 

_They_ made him that way. The Consortium. Cancerman. Bill Mulder. Even...me. 

I _should_ have known, you know? I'm a profiler with the FBI, it's my _business_ to know who I'm _dealing_ with. But every time it's Alex, my hand's always low. I've learned in some cases to fold early and hope I have some chips left to play again. I must be doing decent, I'm still _alive_. Primarily, because Alex _loves_ me. 

Now I realize I love _him_. Maybe tonight I'll _tell_ him. 

I need to win him to me; this constant battle does neither of us any good. 

I sit quietly and watch as Alex shakes some food into the water and the fish rush for it. He gazes at them, eyes going sympathetic and his lips widen to flash a slight smile. I manage to keep the moan of need unspoken as I watch his face in the soft lighting. 

He's pretty, not handsome. Handsome simply doesn't fit. He's got these shocking green eyes, like the green of an Irish moor, and the longest, darkest lashes I've ever seen on a man. Gorgeous lashes. When he blinks they fan his eyes, make even that simple action the most seductive move... 

How do I _know_ his eyes are green since I'm color blind? Well, I don't. I mean, I'm not. I _mean_ I can _see_ them. Now. I'm not color blind anymore. Haven't been since I was... _taken_. I'm a bit...different...now. I don't want to go into that right this minute so just trust me, I _know_ what color they are! In fact the color blinks again watching the fish. 

//God...I can't...// 

I manage to calm the building ache and focus back on him. Yes, he's pretty. He's got a small nose - pert, some would call it. It would seem silly described on a guy's face but on him it's truly perfect. Dark, thick eyebrows crinkle slightly as he watches my hungry fish. They fit the shape of his eyes, accent those emerald depths in a way that makes the slightest flicker dramatic. 

His ears are gently curved, near pointed at the tips - elfish and delicate. He'd have made a more beautiful 'Legolas' than Bloom did. Go back to the face, look lower and he's got a delicious bowed mouth set with lips that are meant to be kissed stupid, sucked right off his face. 

I _plan_ to suck them. Tonight! 

He lifts a hand to brush that face and I wonder how soft his skin is. I've felt it before, felt a brief touch as my fist bruised it, battered it; it was indeed soft, only to harden with the force of my hate. From this moment on I don't want his face, his skin, to be anything but soft under my touch. Soft, delicate and mine to caress. I have to make a difference tonight. I _have_ to! I focus again as he lowers the food and sighs. I hear exhaustion, sadness in the tone and my head lifts up slightly. 

" _Jesus, Mulder_ , can't you even take a moment to _feed_ the damn things?" 

That's what he said in the dream, the last one I had when I realized I want him. The words he said just before he settled onto the sofa to wait for me to come home... 

The same sofa my naked, horny ass is covering right now! // _Shit_!// 

He straightens up, lowering the food and turns. Too late. Slowly, I sit up and purr at him. "Hey...Alex." His reaction isn't what I expected. 

He lets out a screech, jerks upright and quickly realizes I'm there. Before I can do anything he jumps back, away, forgetting the coffee table's behind him. The backs of his knees catch it folding under him. The container of fish food flies into the air as his arms pinwheel trying to steady him. No chance. 

With a yelp, he drops back, down, hits the table and flips over. At the last moment he tries to twist. I wince as I hear his body whap the floor, gasp as his head finds the side of the table and raps the hardwood as he falls. The crack scares me shitless. 

Motherfuck! 

I'm on him in a flash, kneeling at his head. He's flat on his back, arms (Jesus, it looks...real! He's got _two_ arms!) splayed out on the floor and he's groaning in pain. Without a sound, I reach out, gently slide my hands under his head to lift it to my naked lap. I barely stifle back a heavier groan as his hair (god, it's _so soft_ ) brushes over my cock. For a moment I wish he'd roll over, drop his mouth on it and suck me off. 

//What the hell's _wrong_ with you, Fox?! He's hurt. Probably got a concussion and all you can think about is your dick! _Get a grip here_!// 

I reach down, run my fingers over the back of his head feeling for blood. Pulling them back I breathe out in a whoosh when I find them dry. Sliding them back I can feel the beginning of a lump in the back center of his head. Damn, that's going to hurt like a bitch in a few. Gently I settle it back in my lap and stroke his face. 

"Alex? Alex? Can you hear me? Alex?!" 

He moans in response, eyelashes flutter to open up over green eyes glazed with pain. I wince again, knowing it hurts, and rub his face gently. It's slightly rough, he hasn't shaved. Not so perfect after all, huh? I brush his cheek again and register the softness under the coarse; baby soft, even on an adult. He's just so beautiful... 

//Fox... _focus_! Asshole!// 

"Sssshhh. It's okay, Alex. I've got you." 

Suddenly his eyes snap wide open and he twists up, away from me to stand. He's rocking on his feet, face pale and ashy in the tank's lighting. His mouth pulls in gasps of air looking like a beached fish. "Mullll...dddeeerrr," he wheezes. 

I rise, ignoring how I look, stand up naked as a jaybird and smile at him. "Yeah Alex, it's me." 

"Wha..." He blinks, eyes looking strangely distant and empty. I take a careful step forward and he shifts back waving like a flag in a slowly dissipating breeze. Not good. 

"Wha...he-hooowwww..." 

He sounds like his battery is running down but I get the question. He wasn't expecting me, didn't see me. "My car's in the shop. I'll get it back Monday. Scully dropped me off today." 

He nods hard (bad move) and sags slightly. "I...I fe-fed the...fish..." 

His eyes roll up and he drops. I manage to move faster and grab him, the near dead-weight drags me down to the floor with him. I grunt as my right hip and ass take the brunt of both our bodies but I hold on to him. I'm not letting him hit the floor again. 

It takes a few moments of pulling but I finally get him up and onto the sofa, lower his head flat on the cushion and rush to the kitchen. A brief forage in the cabinets under the sink and I find an ice bag Scully left me once, from a bad drinking binge, fling open the freezer and grab handfuls of ice to pack it. My fridge may be a desert of nourishment but when it comes to ice the machine's a freaking Antarctica! 

Moving back to the sofa, I kneel down, lift up Alex's head and ease the bag against the ostrich egg that's rising under my fingers. God, that's going to hurt! It does. He feels the cold and groans in my arms, shifts trying to get away but I hold the bag _and_ him firm. 

I just wanted to talk to him, not incapacitate him but it seems we can't get past bad habits when we're around each other. I brush my hand over his face again and finally feel it. He's hot! Not in the lusty sense, he's physically hot! I see it too, beads of sweat, and stroke his face again. The heat seems to flee from my touch, the skin going fiery then cooling fast. What the hell? 

I need him to wake but I don't want to shake him around. If he's really hurt I could do more damage. For once in my life I'd rather kill myself than hurt him. 

Will wonders never cease? 

"Alex? Alex? Wake up, okay? I need you to wake up. Alex, please!" I nudge his arm as gently as I can and sigh when those long lashes flutter. "Yeah, that's it. Wake up, now. Lemme see those gorgeous greens, okay?" 

A painful moan rises up, the lashes flutter again, lift, and a pair of green eyes lock on me. They're not happy. Not one damn bit. Hooboy! 

Alex glares at me. "Wha...what happened? What-what did you do to me?" 

//What _haven't_ I done?// "Nothing. You...you fell. Hit your head on the table. I thought you might have a concussion. You still might. I need you awake so I can check." 

He continues to glare as he slowly sits up. It's probably not a good idea but I doubt I can stop him. He's in a vulnerable position and knows it. So do I, so I make every effort to keep my expression open and caring as I rock back to give him some space. He leans back against the leather panting and the tank's light bathes him a in ghostly sheen. I lean over to flip on the light. 

"No. Don't." 

Even though it's whispered I get the warning. I lower my hand slowly remembering he's probably armed. When has he not been? "You thirsty? Want something to drink? Some water?" 

He ignores me and glares harder. "What...did...you _do_ to me?" 

Back to that, huh? "I _told_ you. You fell and hit your head. I didn't do anything except scare the shit outta you. I was sitting on the sofa..." My head drops and I look off for a moment knowing this is going to shake him some. "I was...waiting...for you." 

"Figured that when I saw you sitting there." 

Well, at least his memory's intact, no damage there. 

"In fact you were sitting _naked_ , Mulder." 

No... No problem with his memory at all. 

"Did I...interrupt... _something_?" 

He's not shaken. Shit, he's not even stirred. I'm not sure _how_ to answer this one and not sound like an ass but I take it on the wing. "I left work late and went for a quick jog. Just got back in. I was getting ready to hit the shower. _Something_ made me feel you were going to come here so when I heard the lock opening I flopped down to wait. Kinda forgot the skinny dipping thing." 

I can feel his eyes rake me on the periphery of my vision. I'm _still_ naked and his voice fills with smug. "Well, you might want to go take that shower _now_ , Mulder. In fact..." I can feel the gaze go hot on me, my skin tingling under it but I don't dare look at him. "...I'd suggest a _really_ cold one." 

Know what _I'd_ like to suggest? 

Handing off the ice bag, I find the dignity to shake my head and rise walking to my bedroom door to snatch down a pair of sweats feeling that gaze following me like a heat-seeking missile. I can't help but keep my ass facing it. Let him see. I can be a _nasty_ little shit when I want something. 

Oh, yeah...I'll get to that in a while too. 

Tugging the sweats on I glance out at him. He's made no effort to move, still sitting halfway slanted on the sofa. He's hurt all right, despite the voice sparing. I need to check him out. "It's okay, Alex. I can wait. I need to be sure you're okay. You fell pretty hard." 

"It's called 'gravity', Mulder. It does that sort of thing to you." 

I know he's pissed and trying to piss me but I'm not playing. Not anymore. Leaving my chest bare, I chuckle at him walking back to ease down on the coffee table carefully by his legs. "Yeah, I know. I've done a few freefalls to the pavement myself because of it, remember?" 

It earns me a slight smile that turns to a wince. "Damn...that really hurts." A hand lifts to rub his head and I notice it's the left one. The hand trembles, moves unsteadily through his hair, the strands filtering around and I realize it's real. All the prosthetics he's had before have _never_ come this close to life-like motion. My god, it's _real_! 

Memories of the dreams, still images, flicker in my mind like a kaleidoscope of reality. He found them. He really _found_ them! 

//Okay, file that for later. Make sure he's okay.// "Alex, what day it is? Give me the date." 

He lowers his arm and blinks at me. "What for?" 

"I need...just what's the _date_ , Alex? What _day_ is it?" I sigh trying not to get irritated. 

A deeper sigh rises up but he gives in. "Friday. It's March. A few days before spring but my sinuses tell me it's already here. Duke took the ACC and I've got 'em in the Final Four. Kansas and Illinois are gonna be tough and you can't ever rule out Kentucky or UNC either. Now, at the tone, the time will be..." 

I clamp a hand over his mouth and chuckle at that 'smart-ass' humor. It's a good sign. "That's okay, you're fine." 

I do pretty well ignoring the wet something that licks my palm but my body twitches on its own. He notices that and licks again. I get smart and move my hand. _I_ wanted to plan the seduction this time. I'm not going to if I don't get a handle on all this so I reach out, press palms to his chest and shift his body downward again, watch his eyes widen in mutual fear and shock. I manage to smile more. 

"Easy, just lay back. I need to get some more ice for your head." 

He moves easily, too easily, without a fight. Something's definitely wrong. He usually tries to block, defend himself in my presence, fights me a little and this _total_ complacency isn't his style. As he settles back I take a moment to brush a lock of hair from his face. As I rise up I don't miss the small intake of air and manage _not_ to do a victory dance. Instead, I take the bag and walk to the kitchen. I can feel it, he's shocked. 

Guess that makes two of us. 

By now I'm usually laying him out on the floor with my fist, not catering to him. I have _no_ idea if this will work but it's like having a wildcat for a pet. I can try to domesticate him but Alex isn't going to come scratching at my door unless he's got a _good_ reason to want in. I _really_ need to give him one. Give him one better that just wanting to fuck with my head. 

I want him here to fuck my _body_! 

I drain out the water, repack the bag and walking back to the sofa find he's sitting up again. A little better this time. I ease the bag behind his head, wince when he does and murmur, "Sorry. Hold this here while I find some aspirin." 

He moves his hand over mine, lets it linger just a moment then _I_ move away. He sighs slightly. I keep mine silent. Maybe it bothers us both. I can only hope so. 

I make a beeline to the bathroom, mouth a thankful 'yes' to find a bottle of Tylenol and Vicodin. I juggle both for a moment. No, he needs something easy. He could have a concussion or just a nasty headache. Either way the Vicodin's not a good call for this. I toss it back, palm the Tylenol and head back to the living room to find Alex staring at me anxiously. The fact he is, and still here, tells me he could be worse off than I thought. 

"Damn, hold on." 

I move to the kitchen, grab a glass and fill it from a container in the fridge. I've taken to having filtered water now. Let's just say a few bad experiences with tap water's left me more conscious of how important fresh, 'clean' water is for your health. 

I return, put the glass on the table and watch him lift his hand out to me. That surprises me a lot. He's got no idea what I'm holding. I could be feeding him rat poison for all he seems to care. The double implication there unnerves me. 

"Ah, I checked the expiration date. These are still good. Tylenol. Extra strength." 

Popping the top I drop two into his palm noticing it's his left one again, the fingers cupping slowly. I push the image and memories of the dreams away for the moment. "Take two now and let's see how you feel before you take more. Don't want to overdue it, okay?" 

He wolfs down the pills and reaches for the glass on the table and I notice the hand shaking as he lifts it, gulps hard and I catch the sound of desperation. He's thirsty. Too thirsty. He suddenly tips the glass and starts to soak it up like a dry sponge, some of it dribbling down his chin and he nearly chokes. I have this feeling of panic and grab it from his hand. 

This time I hear a whine filled with fear and need. I drop down next to him and hold the glass out to him. "Here. Sip _slowly_ , now." 

He leans in and presses those delicious lips to the rim. A wave of heat goes over my skin, flares along my nerves and it's all I can do not to scream. I _really_ want those lips somewhere else. 

Really! 

I fight off the urge to toss the glass away and shove my cock in its place. Instead, I hold it and let him drink. "Easy, Alex. Sip. Don't chug it or you'll get a headache." 

It may be a bit late for that but he sips slowly, glaring over the rim, one hand still holding the bag to the back of his head. He's not so tough after all. He swallows and leans back to snarl at me. "Thanks... _Mom_." 

Okay, maybe he _is_ a _little_ bit tough. "You're welcome... _sonny_." The green goes dark and I know I'm pushing a _very_ dangerous button so I grin at him. "Not big on letting someone take care of you, are you?" 

"When it's you, no. Somehow _your_ idea of caring for someone usually ends up making them feel worse, putting them in danger, or making them _dead_." 

//Damn.// 

I lower the glass, rise up turning away and hug my arms to my chest. I didn't think he could _be_ so hostile. Man, I was so wrong. 

"Truth hurts. Doesn't it, Mulder?" he hisses behind my back. 

He's spoiling for a fight. Okay, no more nice guy. I spin around and snap back. "What the fuck were you doing coming here then?! You don't want my help? Fine! Want me to kick your ass instead?!" 

That gets me a few eye blinks and he head lowers slightly. I can see his ears, those elfish tips darken. //Ooookay.// He looks back up and his face is darker. He's...blushing?! 

"I...I couldn't sleep. I... I had dreams. I wanted...needed to get out." 

He had _dreams_? Tonight? I wonder. "What kind of dreams? Nightmares? About the oil? Your...um, Tunguska?" 

His ears and face go darker and I know. No. Not that. He lowers the ice bag slowly and settles it right over his crotch. Subtle but a blind man couldn't miss the significance. 

"No. Not bad but they're personal. Suffice, I couldn't sleep." 

//Okay. Let's take this to the next level.// "So, let me guess...you came over here to wake _me_ up?" 

He shakes his head, carefully and looks right at me. "Nooo... _you_ said you were already up, Mulder. Getting ready to take a shower only you decided to sit, naked I might add, and wait for _me_ to arrive. Which begs to wonder... How did _you_ know I was coming _over_ here?" 

//Okay. Time to talk turkey.// I walk back over and settle down on the coffee table, stare right into his eyes and sigh hoping he understands. "I dreamed you were coming here. I dreamed you picked the lock, walked in, fed the fish then sat down to wait for me to come home." 

He blinks back in shock. " _I_ dreamed you were waiting for me to come here. Wanted me to feed the fish and wait for you. I..." He freezes realizing how quickly he divulged what he didn't want to. "What the hell did you do to me? What's going on here?" 

I don't have any idea either but it's a bit too eerie to be normal. Even the kind of _normal_ I'm used to. "What did you _dream_ about, Alex? I need you to tell me." 

He turns away and shivers, I can't miss it. He's embarrassed and perhaps rattled. I'm getting a feeling I know what for. "I _told_ you, they're... They're _personal_. I don't go around asking you about yours, do I?" 

//No, Alex, you don't...but I'm going to tell you them anyway.// He cuts me off before I can, glares at me, eyes icy. "What the fuck do _you_ care what I dream! Probably love knowing I haven't slept decently in days! Haven't eaten in two! Well, there it is, Mulder! Happy?!" 

There's exhaustion in the tone even if it still has the snarl of a wounded panther. Easing back I flip the light on the small table, blink under the soft illumination and really see it - the dark rings around feverish, glassy eyes, the pale and wane skin, the hollowed cheeks, and finally the lips that look like they've been drinking dirt; too dry. He looks parched. Damn! He needs to rest. He's walking dead on his feet. If we got attacked now he'd be a liability not an asset. 

I reach down to grip his arm. "Come on, you need to rest. You can...take the bed." My hand touches his - the left one - and he practically rips it off jerking back from me with a shriek. 

" _Don't_ touch me!" 

I don't need a dream for this, I remember well. He said this before, in the Russian gulag, a warning he'd kill me if I did. Well, I touched him a lot after that and I'm still here. But I'm getting smarter. 

I snatch my hand back, the vehemence (and...fear?) in the words scaring me. Alex's got two hands now and from past experience he's doubly dangerous. Again. Flashes from my dreams shift in my head, maybe his arm really _is_ that sensitive, even through the leather jacket. I ease back keeping my hands out where he can see them and work a sure smile on my face. 

"Alex, I don't want to fight. I'm trying to _help_ you!" 

He's cradling his arm in his right as if it hurts. Maybe...oh, god. "Yeah. _Right_! Help me by draggin' me into that bedroom and cuffing me to the bed until Scully or Skinner can come by to pick me up!" 

Suddenly, I'm having a vision - a hot, hard body with an angel's face and a demon's attitude cuffed to my bed, naked and screaming for more. Then he mentions Scully, Skinner, in the same breath and my vision goes away with a dramatic 'poof' and puff of smoke. 

I lower my arms with a sigh. "I haven't called anyone, Alex and I'm not _going_ to. I merely want you to lie down and try to sleep. If you don't want the bed, you can have the sofa. I'll get you a blanket and pillow." I turn for the closet and call back over my shoulder. 

"You can hang your clothes on the kitchen chair." 

I open the closet, toe back one of my boxes of movies carefully and grab a fresh blanket and pillow from the stack folded on the top shelf. I used to not sleep in my bed and kept a nightly supply for my sofa forages. Closing the door, I turn back to find my 'guest' still sitting, dressed and watching me from wary green eyes. 

For a moment, I think what he's sitting on, what I've been doing on it and feel my face heat. The dream was right, I _should_ have it cleaned. If I want to bronze it later it should at least be decent. 

I file _that_ thought away fast, even out my expression and notice he's made no effort to undress. "Alex," I sigh in frustration, "Are you planning to sleep in all that?" 

He stares down at his leather jacket, black shirt, jeans, the thick hiking boots and snarls. "I'll be fine. Gimme the damn pillow!" 

I walk back to him, hold it out sighing as he snatches if from my hand. Lowering the ice bag onto the coffee table he sets the pillow against the sofa arm and eases back wincing as his head settles on it. I shake out the blanket and walking around the table, drape it over him ignoring the widening eyes and slight gasp as I tuck it under him. 

"What the hell are you _doing_?!" 

"Tucking you in. Problem?" 

I'm tucking it right under his hip as he sniffs at me again but this time his voice is strangely deferential. "What's next? Kiss me good night?" 

I can't tell if it's a challenge or a request so I make my own decision. "Sure." 

Before he can react, I lean down and brush a kiss against his cheek - same side he kissed me on before Weikamp - force myself not to leech onto him and ease back. Give the blanket an extra tuck before I rise. I look dead into the near plate-sized eyes and pale, shocked face with my usual bland expression. I should get an Oscar for this one. 

"I'll leave the bedroom door open. Call if you need anything." 

There's a ton of innuendo in that one sentence but I'm moving for the bedroom before either of us can consider it further. Whipping back the covers, I slip out of the sweats knowing he can 'see' my lean, naked figure move across the room to ease under the covers. I smack the pillow a few times and settle down. 

To wait. 

I know he's out there lying stunned and confused. Good. It's one thing to leave Alex Krycek unharmed and unblemished in my living room, another to simply turn my back, walk off and leave my bedroom door open for him. 

Here I am with a trained killer (and what was that in the dream? Oh, yeah...with a body count) stretched out on my sofa. I've thrown down both gauntlets and offered up an olive branch. Now all I can do is lie back, wait and see if he's willing to help me plant it into a tree. 

Well, he's _here_. Injured but here and it's not his head that I need functioning. I curse myself a bit for my selfishness, he's probably going to have a mother of a headache forming, but I'm feeling desperate. The dreams, phases of things, have been shifting in my head since I saw his shadow under the door. Now, all I want is to pull him into this bed with me, tell him I love him and fuck him out of his mind. 

The way he did me. 

The last dream I had (a few hours ago?) left me so horny I came into the living room just trying to get a grip on my emotions. Then Alex came to my door and since then I've been beating my emotions back like a lion tamer, whip snapping the air. I'm _way_ out of my league here. I'm so deep in my musing I don't hear him the first time and he calls out again. 

"Mu...Mulder?" 

He's leaning against the doorframe. I'm not sure if he'll hold up he's so pale; looks so exhausted. I've _never_ seen Alex Krycek like this. He really looks like he hasn't slept - or well - for some time. I'm starting to figure he's been dreaming all right and they've been some doozies. Considering the ones I've had we should both be freaking hysterical by now. 

"Alex, what are you doing? You should be resting." 

He leans harder, holding up by sheer will. "Wha...why are you doing this? What do you _want_ from me?!" 

//Oh god, baby, what _don't_ I want?// "I...I want you to try to rest. You look like shit warmed over." I suddenly remember something and sit up keeping the covers high. "You haven't eaten anything. You want... I can fix something." 

The green eyes narrow and my earlier assessment's dead-on. He _is_ a wildcat, a panther, caged, semi-tranquilized but still dangerous as all get-out. "Who the hell _are_ you?" 

"Someone who's trying to help you, if you'd stop being an _ass_ and let me! Now...are you _hungry_?" 

This gets me a snort of disbelief. "You don't cook, Mulder and I've seen inside your fridge. Don't be absurd." 

I chuckle back. "Yeah, you've got a point. So...called the CDC on me yet?" 

He blanches and sways against the frame. "What... _what_ did you say?" His face has gone even paler and for a moment I think I can see through him. " _What_ did you say?!" 

"I just asked if you'd called the CDC on me." 

Alex grips the frame so hard with his fingers I can tell there'll be dents in it. "Where did you hear that?! _Where_?!" he roars. 

I'm scaring him, I can see that now. I need to defuse this...fast! "I didn't hear it anywhere. I'm just joking. I know my fridge has looked like some vile scientist's lab in the past but it's clean now. I even got some groceries. I can make a ham and Swiss for you." 

He's not listening. "Why did you ask if I called the CDC, Mulder. _Why_?!" 

There's a desperation there that leaves my skin in goose bumps and the air chilly. I hope my answer's the right one. "Okay, okay! I dreamed you saw my fridge; said it was a disaster the CDC was waiting on. Frankenstein's fucking lab on ice, if I recall every... Alex?!" 

I fling the covers off the bed and rush for him as he crumples to the floor. Sliding next to him I press my fingers to his neck. The pulse is erratic and his body's twitching slightly. Praying he's not about to have a seizure, I reach down and lift him into my arms. He's never been a light weight but the sudden feel of barely holding something makes me sway as I move to the bed. I dump him unceremoniously into the covers and rush for the kitchen... 

...and my cell phone. 

I know he'll kill me for this as I snatch it from my coat, flip it open and hit the speed dial. //Come on... _come on_!// 

"H'lo?" 

"Scully, I need your help." 

"Mul...der..." Yep, she's irritated. "Do you know what _time_ it is?" 

I glance at the wall clock. "Yes. Scully, I need your _help_." 

I'm in my usual form. She knows it, has dealt with it for years now. I owe her more than I can ever repay as she sighs patiently, forgiving me right off. 

"Mulder? What is it? What's happened?" 

I'm facing the bedroom, Alex's unconscious form and suddenly I know I can't do this. She won't _give_ him a chance; either shoot him for his part in Melissa's death or handcuff him for Skinner. I...can't...do...this. 

"Scully...never mind. I think I know the website I need. I'm...I'm sorry. Have a _great_ weekend." 

"Mulder..." The tone's cautious, worried. "Are you alone there?" 

Shit, shit and triple shit! She's been around me _too_ much. "Yeah...yeah. I was trying to...find something. I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. I'm really sorry, Scully. I'll see you Monday, okay?" 

She's not buying it. "Mulder, you sound upset. What is it?" 

She's up, I can see her sitting up, turning on the light and wide awake. I hate myself for even dialing. "No...I'm...I'm fine. _Really_. Scully, I'm sorry. I should have checked a few places before calling you. I didn't think. I..." 

"What was it you wanted?" 

I answer automatically, not even thinking, so used to talking with this woman as I walk to the bedroom door and stare down at my 'guest'. "I was trying to determine what to do for a concussion or a more severe head injury..." 

// _Oh...god_!// 

" _Mulder_..." The tone goes tight, cautious and I can see her reaching for some clothes. "Are you _alone_?" Before I can answer, Alex takes that moment to groan. _Loud_. She hears it over the digital line and shouts. "Mulder! Stay where you are! Don't move, don't do anything! I'm on my way!" The phone goes dead before I can yell back. 

Flinging in to the floor I rush to the bed. I need to get Alex out of here before she arrives, but the moment I begin to lift him he groans again. It sounds _so_ weak now, exhausted, one breath away from a death rattle and fear stops me. Gently, I lower him back to the bed, slip on my sweats again and head into the living room. 

Flopping down on the sofa I wait for the inevitable, wondering if just Alex pays for tonight. Seems I don't wait that long. A few minutes later I hear the screech of tires, see a flash of light in the parking lot and sigh in despair. Oh, boy. Rising, I slowly walk across the room - an interminable distance for so short a space - answer the door before the knock even starts. 

Scully flies in, gun out, blue eyes hard and cold. She's dressed in jeans, a soft green sweater and her hair's pulled into a ponytail. Her purse swings out then smacks against her side. She looks like a college debutante, a cheerleader just coming back from a late night game and not one of the Bureau's best agents. I really hate this. 

"Sorry to call so late, Scully," I sigh. It's going to get even later. She turns to me, face in the concentration mode I remember too well in the morgues. Guess she was expecting another hospital run for me. 

"Mulder, what the hell's going on? Why did you call me? I heard someone in pain but you seem fine." 

I point to the bedroom. "I could use your medical opinion. I have a 'guest' I need you to take a look at." 

"A guest? Mulder, if this is some kind of sick joke..." 

I'm not sure how I feel about that - the fact she's surprised I have someone here (am I _that_ pathetic?) or that she thinks it's someone or some _thing_ freaky. "Just follow me, Scully. It's no joke and I _need_ your help." 

She's behind me, gun still out. Can't worry about it now and if I can't convince her I'll probably get shot too. Again. 

We enter the bedroom and the air goes frigid. I turn slowly to find her staring down at the bed, at Alex and the look's not something I want to remember. She whirls on me, eyes harder; lips little more than a line on her face. " _Mulder_..." 

It's a snarl; a tone I've never heard from her before, a sound filled with venomous hate and I know _Alex_ isn't the only one in trouble. "Scully, please, don't do anything rash. I need you to hear me out." 

The gun's low but still pointed at the bed. I'd sure as shit better make this good. 

"I'm listening, Mulder, but I'm not that _willing_ to hear what you have to say." 

//Ooookay. _Real good_.// "Scully, he _didn't_ attack me. I was up //don't go into details, boy!// and I heard him open the door. I was waiting for him, didn't turn on the light. He fed the fish (her lips twitch slightly) then I called out to him. Scared the shit out of him. He jumped back, slipped, fell over the coffee table and smacked his head on the edge. _Hard_. He's been in and out of consciousness for about an hour or so." 

I glance at the bed, watch Alex's slow breathing and my heart skips. "Scully, I'm really worried. He's pale, exhausted, he passed out right in the doorway just before I called you. That's the second time. He's not bleeding or anything like that, I checked his head. He felt hot one moment, then icy cold the next. I don't know what's wrong so I only gave him two Tylenol and some water. He practically tried to eat the glass, he was so thirsty. I don't know what to do for him. You _do_." 

"Mulder..." I watch as she eases the hammer down on the Glock, clicks on the safety and tucks the gun back into her bag. I feel my whole body shake with relief until she glares at me. "He's a known felon, wanted for several criminal investigations as well as the murders..." 

"Scully, we don't have anything on him. Not _one thing_ and you know it. And you know _why_ we don't. _They_ make sure we don't." 

Her lower lip trembles and I know _she_ does but we still can't make it stick. For once (and I'm sorry, Scully) I'm grateful. "Scully...please. I need your help. He's passed out...twice. Please." 

I could push it, remind her she's a doctor and loose her friendship forever. Do I want to help Alex that much? Yes. I open my mouth prepared to destroy everything we have and she saves me from myself. 

"Before I do anything, _I_ want to know what's going on! He can wait that long." 

I'm hoping that's a solid medical assessment and not an idle remark. I tip my head to the living room. "Out there, then." 

We walk back, Scully stealing glances over her shoulder at the bedroom. She doesn't need to worry but I keep my mouth shut knowing nothing I say will take the edge off. Instead, I motion to the sofa. 

"Sit down. This...is going to take a bit." 

She drops down onto the sofa while I start to pace, begin talking. I spill it all, the dreams, the feelings, everything. Even...even the moment Alex and I make love in the dreams. Hold nothing back save the specifics but when I'm finished I can see the disbelief...and the outrage. 

"Mulder," The tone this time is pissed off. "Are you trying to tell me you have _feelings_ for him?! Emotional feelings? _Sexual_?! You can't be _serious_?! He killed your father, Melissa, he's..." 

"He didn't kill Melissa, Cardinale did and we _both_ know why he _did_ kill Bill. Scully, my own _father_ was about to spill his guts to me and end up getting mine sliced out as well. Alex knew it, knew what he was going to tell me would certainly sign my death warrant. It was too late for Dad, he was already dead with what he knew and Alex stopped him the only way he could. I...hated him for it, yes. Until I found out what Dad was going to tell me. You know too. It's a bit moot now, we're in the middle anyway. Still, like it or not, Alex has saved my life _and_ yours a few times over. Definitely not in the best way but I think we'd have both died a long time ago if he _hadn't_ interfered. I can work with that now." 

My words still surprise me some. I've come to accept what Alex did and other things as well. Know why he could kill Bill so easily. Why he's yet to kill someone else. 

Bill failed me more than he wanted me to know. 

Scully's deep hiss of anger pulls me back. Blue eyes cold as a glacier hold me. "Well, I... _can't_ , Mulder. I can't ignore things as well as _you_ can." 

//Yeah. I know.// 

"Scully, I _know_ what you're thinking but believe me, I _do_ feel for him. _Feel_ things about him, _have_ felt them. How else do you explain the dreams I've been having? The details?" 

She looks at me with the expression of a doctor knowing her patient is going to need much more long-term care. Permanently. The kind involving soft, cushy walls and white long-sleeved jackets. "Mulder, _I'm_ not the psychologist here, _you are_. Perhaps _you_ can explain about dreams and the 'repressed sexual fulfillment' theory." 

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw throbs and for one moment I wish she were a guy so I could punch her! I wouldn't really, her words have a nasty ring of truth. 

Am I in love with Alex, or simply trying to find an excuse for what I _really_ need...a good, hard, fucking? My gaze steals away to the bedroom door, the body stretched out on the covers and mine throbs all over. No, I _know_ now. I _do_ need a good fucking but only if _he's_ giving it! 

"Guess I have some explaining to do, huh?" 

"No, not really. I've known you were gay, Mulder, for some time. Knew Krycek was too. It explained a great deal on why he kept hanging around." 

Well. 

Uh huh, that mentioning earlier? No mistake. I am. There you go, as official as I can say it. So's Alex. How do I know? Believe me...I _know_! I _told_ you I'd get around to explaining. You just need to be patient with me. 

I know Scully's known, at least I thought she did, since the day she stood in front of me naked and I did nothing more than stare back with a strange clinical detachment. If I'd been a medical student she would have been proud of me for my composure. Instead, I embarrassed her badly but I couldn't do it. For too many reasons. I _do_ love her...but not the way she wants. 

Her admission lifts a weight off me I wasn't aware was trying to crush me. " _I'm sorry_ , Scully. I should have told you, confided in you. We've trusted each other for so long I should have known I could tell you but I _did_ have my reasons not to. Not with _this_." 

I'm sure you know how it is here. Gays aren't that accepted by _this_ administration or in its agencies, so many of us stay low-key, keep our shit lower and don't stir up things outside legal protests or parades. Federal agents in the _other_ 'rainbow coalition' keep an even lower profile and yeah, we're a pretty good size group in DC. 

Surprised? How _can_ you be? Ever watch the news, see all the top brass that get 'outed'? Please! The political clime for us is a volcano. It's why I've been careful. 

How do I know who's gay in town? Well, some folks call it 'gaydar' - a sense we seem to have when we're around our own kind, outside the confines of the clubs and neighborhoods we've settled in. It gets confirmed in little signals, tips of the head, a change in posture angle, a slight lift of the brows or a smile just a bit too light. Whatever, _we know_ , then it's pretty much 'flirt fest'. If you're luckier... 

Okay, what I _mean_ is Alex gave me signals a long time ago. I wouldn't give in to them. We were partners for a time, before he betrayed - no, was _forced_ to betray me - and I couldn't take the risk. Don't think I didn't know though. He fairly reeked 'fuck me!' and the whole 'hero worship' thing was a neon sign, then the obvious heat I felt coming off him whenever we were together pretty much confirmed it all. 

Like I said... 'Gaydar'. 

It's one reason I wore a racy swimsuit - red Speedo - just to see what he'd do. I remember rising from the pool, doing my best to pull a male version of Bo Derek in '10', shaking the water from my face and looking smug. For a moment, just one, he looked at me. Really looked. Then it was gone. I could tell it got to him but he handled himself well; followed me along the deck rattling about something, some case and yet... 

He _wanted_ me! 

I knew it and instead of inviting him home and fucking him through those thin walls, I did everything I could to hurt him for it. _Before_ I had a good reason to. 

Why would I do that? When I wanted him? Because I was scared, okay?! I'm a federal agent, it's just not... You know the phrase 'what you don't know...'? Yes, well it's true but what it _should_ have said was 'what _your bosses_ don't know won't hurt you.' Providing you _keep_ it like that! 

I know, I know...it's my fault. I gave Alex conflicting signals, one moment trying to horny him up with the swimsuit, the next cooling him down with my 'over-the-top, superior agent' persona. I isolated him when I should have accepted him more as a partner and not an interference. I was a mess then. Still am. At least every time he's in town but I tried a few times to do better. I really tried. 

I did buy him lunch a few times, even got him a slice of apple pie on his birthday. He didn't know I knew when he was born and it flipped him out. We buried the hatchet a bit that day. I was still pretty pissed with him being substituted for Scully but I tried to give him a chance. 

I remember us sitting in the car, eating pie, laughing, talking guy stuff - a good time. As an agent, he did pretty good, even put himself on the line to keep me safe. I should have realized it then but I was busy trying to ignore my own feelings. 

Then the shit started. 

Scully's abduction, the cancer, finding that chip in her, case evidence pointing to something sinister, some conspiracy, vanishing at every turn, the first taste of the evil that's the Consortium; and Alex always there. In the thick of it. Shadowy but there. 

Then I found the Morleys, the cigarettes the one I call 'Cancerman' - and maybe the real brunt of my problems - smokes in Alex's car. He smoked back then too (probably still does, forget what I dreamed!) and seeing those, smelling the stale remnants on Alex himself, really did a number on me. 

I put two and two together and it equaled...a _rat_. 

We went fucking end over end after that. 

It's been years since and all we've done is kick and kick again. Me doing more of it, but he's paid more. I...I dragged him to Russia, Tunguska, to investigate a tip. I was at the airport, walking away from the car I'd locked him in and he starting swearing at me. In Russian. It was perfect. I jerked him out and took him with me. 

He actually helped, got us into the country, translated for me, even seemed anxious to find info. Of course, we got caught, thrown into a gulag and that's when he pulled his finest betrayal. Or so I thought. 

Tossed into a cell, he started yelling at the guards in a voice that wasn't panicked but pissed. I didn't understand but the guard responded and the chatter took on a demanding tone. Alex seemed in control, the guard growing cautious, wary, like a postman seeing a Mastiff in the street; watching the stub tail wag yet knowing the front-end nothing but teeth. 

Finally the guard bought it, stepping aside to let him leave. He glanced at me, murmured a shitty little 'good luck' and vanished. And I knew the truth. Alex had connections there. Still. Powerful ones. In that moment I knew Alex was also KGB. I swore if I got out I'd kill him. Once and for all. My 'hate meter' blew off the scale. Despite my feelings I wanted him dead. 

Very, very _dead_! 

What I didn't know then and would only discover later, more by accident (through the dreams) was that he was trying to buy favors. Convince them that I was little more than a foolish, arrogant 'Americanski' thinking I was solving a mystery - harmless, if inquisitive and not worth their time. But I was there, right in the midst of an alien experiment and therefore useful. After all, who would look for me in _Russia_? 

I was tested, like the other prisoners, subjected to the Black Oil. I won't think on it. I try not to. I've fought every night since to keep that horror at bay. What sanity I have left depends on it. 

Later, I was taken from the cell out into the courtyard and I saw him. Saw him chatting with the warden, all warm and fuzzy. It was too much. I had a chance to escape and I took it. Grabbing him on the back of a truck, I pummeled him senseless, then stole it and tore down the gate. Driving like a Formula One racer I headed off. 

How the hell was _I_ supposed to know the damn thing's breaks were shot? 

In the flatbed, Alex came to and tossed himself off into the woods. I careened off an embankment, crashing. I was hurt but alive and took off for the forest cover, the warden and guards' horses thundering towards me. 

Hiding in leaves I felt them pass then rose and began wandering off, desperate to find help. I was in a big mess, unable to speak the language and American; two strikes against me in a country even more paranoid than my own. I got discovered and went from hot water into a solar flare. 

The villagers that found me had also been aware of the tests, knew that something sinister was being subjected on the populace. In their panic, they devised a perfect plan to avoid experimentation. Mutilation. Every man I saw had lopped off his left arm. They believed it would halt the tests since they were 'damaged'. I nearly joined them when they came looking. Still I managed to convince them I was safe and they helped me to leave. 

But Alex... Damn. 

I dragged him there and what did he get for it...waking up by a fire to watch a bunch of peasants hack off his arm. They thought it'd save him, prevent him from being infected. They didn't know he'd already _been_ infected. Back in Hong Kong. He was immune, tainted after that but they didn't know. I've seen the scar, the ragged flesh where his bicep was. His whole left arm was gone. 

Because of me. 

I dreamed about that too. The very first dream. Felt myself being pinned to the ground, saw the heated blade moving downward, the sting that suddenly turned to fire. Heard my screams, _his_ , felt pain unlike anything I've ever experienced, heard the snap of bone as they broke it against the knife. Then my alarm went off. I've never been so grateful for that damn clock in my life! 

I think if I hadn't woken up right then I might have actually died from the psychosomatic shock. 

I lay there bathed in sweat, heart slamming my chest like canon shots and every muscle little more than jelly. I waited for the pounding from the cops knowing I only had enough strength to crawl to the door. I was sure I'd been screaming that whole time but no one came. 

Not a soul. Not a knock. 

My arm, the _left_ one, throbbed like hell. I suddenly remembered something I'd said to Scully a long time ago: 'Amputees sometimes feel the pain of phantom limbs, ghosts of hands still clenching, legs still aching.' I still had mine. The mist of the dream was still there and the fear came back. I couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop rubbing my arm. 

I thought back to the time I saw Alex - after Tunguska - sitting in the dark, one hand gripping a drink, strangely hollow and lifeless in its movements. I thought to the device that held it in place, imagined the pain of torn skin forced to hold up a weight without life. I remember how he looked, the eyes dark and filled with anger. Hate. But now I recall something else. Something I'd failed to see then and should have. The look of pain. Deep, traumatic pain. And it was all my fault. 

He didn't ask for it, didn't even want to be there. He only wanted out of the car, away from me. Instead, I drag him into an inferno and he gets burned worse than anything I could have done to him. 

He _should_ have killed me. He didn't. 

Because he loves me. 

This time I make sure no one hears the howls of pain and guilt I bury in my pillow. 

I finally got up and managed to dress. I walked out the door and two neighbors did little more than nod at me as I passed. I was sure I'd cried so much my eyes had to look like a vampire's after a blood fest, swollen red. They walked past without a peek back. Outside, I took a few moments to stretch and began a slow jog. 

I was still surprised I didn't get arrested for disturbing the peace but in retrospect, I think I didn't make a sound; the horror and pain all mental. That was more than enough to convince me how much I'd wronged him. 

I can only _imagine_ what Alex felt for real. From the psychological shock of my dream I don't think I'd ever be able to handle what he did. He _is_ stronger than I thought. Than me. I need strength like that but not the hate. 

And let me tell you...that boy can _hate_! 

Something cracked in him then. The nasty triple agent, spy and assassin came out in full. The level on his killing meter went up a huge notch. He wanted revenge - on everyone and everything - I can't blame him and I came close to dying for it. I kept pushing him, driving him with my own hate; came closer to killing _him_ and I still wanted him too. Pretty much can guarantee _he_ wanted _me_. Despite his anger. Despite his pain. Despite mine. 

Yeah...we _are_ fucked up, aren't we? 

Now he's got his arm back and if my dreams are more than that, I know how. He's with the rebels, the aliens that want to side with us, protect us against their own. If he is, he's more use to us alive. He has to _stay_ alive. I have to make sure of it. For him... 

...for _me_! 

Scully coughs loudly and I realize I'm not alone, force myself back to look at her. She smiles gently, caringly and I know I do love her. She's the best friend I may ever have. 

"I understand the reason you kept your orientation quiet, Mulder, but I figured it out fairly quickly. Your past relationships haven't exactly been the stuff of legends..." She lowers her head but the eyes flicker towards the bedroom. "And I think I _sensed_ the truth even if I didn't want to believe." 

I'm not sure if I should ask but I'm too curious not to. She's not a profiler but... "How did you...um, _know_? For sure?" 

She gifts me with a genuine smile of care. "Mulder, I may not be a social celebrity but compared to _you_ , I'm on the 'A-list'. You're a worse 'date pariah' than I'll _ever_ be." 

God, I _wish_ she was a guy! No. No, I don't. I can't be that angry, not when she's pegged me. 

"I must be rubbing off on you, Scully. You profiled pretty well there." 

She chuckles and the sound eases the worry. "I didn't really try. I was sure I was right then I got something of a confirmation. _Skinner_ told me you were." 

That shakes me and I know my face shows it making her smile at me again. "We came here looking for you when you went out on one of your 'heroic escapades' without his authorization. We were looking for anything to lead us to you so, um...we searched. _He_ found your videos." 

Ah. Yes. Silly me. It explains a lot. Skinner. Walter Sergei Skinner. 'Straight as a ruler' knows his 'loose cannon' agent's more loose than he expected. That _this_ male's porn collection _is_ male. Skinner, my _boss_ , already knows. I _was_ going to tell him. Someday. I'm in _deep_ shit if he ever turns on me. 

Like I said, it's always better what's _not_ known. 

Now I _know_ my face looks bad as she's smiling broadly. "Relax, Mulder. He's okay with it so long as it doesn't interfere with your work _or_ brings attention to the Bureau through you. So no going out to places in drag for god's sake, or manhandling people in public unless it's on official business. He'll keep his mouth shut if you keep yours." 

I know I'm blushing as her gaze spears me with a double meaning but I manage to nod. She steals another glance to the bedroom with a sigh then turns back to me. " _Why_ is it all the cute guys are gay?" 

"Scully, I _hadn't_ planned on it, I assure you." 

"Mulder, it's a scientific fact that one's sexuality isn't just based on environment and cultural exposure. There _are_ indications of pre-genetic dispositions. You can't go against your feelings. I was merely making a _social_ assessment." 

"I was _referring_ to my being one of the 'cute ones', Scully. However, thanks. For the compliment." 

She pales slightly, then her face flushes. "Oh." She chuckles, I manage to join her then she looks at me carefully. "Mulder, I need to tell you something." 

I nod, knowing I need to talk too. "Before you say anything, I need to apologize. For that...that night. In the hotel room. When you were...um, when you dropped the..." 

"Mulder, I didn't do it to _seduce_ you..." 

//What?// 

"...I did it because I wanted to be sure. _Before_ Skinner confirmed it. I had my suspicions so I did it to confirm them." 

I feel my jaw drop and she blushes, really blushes at me. "I'm sorry, Mulder, for doing it _that_ way but your reaction told me everything. You're definitely not bi." 

//Am I _not_? What about _her_ , the vampire. Kristen. I...I fucked _her_ , Scully. It was okay.// 

//Yeah. Right.// 

The same kind of 'okay' a man dying of thirst has when he stumbles on a small puddle. Damn grateful. I took it for what it was but it wasn't what I needed and I knew it. She was human, if misguided, to know it too. In the end, still convinced of her nocturnal destiny, she destroyed herself by fire and let me live. 

She could have burned me up in that house too but she didn't. Maybe it was just 'okay' for her as well. Maybe she let me live to find what I _did_ need. Maybe she felt sorry...for me. 

Pity, thy name is Mulder. 

I think about Phoebe Green for only a breath, Diane Fowley a bit more and why it all went wrong. I should have known, should have faced this a long time ago. Instead, I tried to excuse it away, pretend that I could be what was expected of me. Kept hoping that perhaps my sexual compass might _yet_ spin that way. Instead it points 'up' as normal. 

I've finally accepted that. At least in private. 

I think to the few dates I've had (if one could call them 'dates') in truth, little more than quick relief. A willing partner, a few drinks, a condom and the pleasure, like the moment all too quickly forgotten. 

I wonder if my father knew; if my mother suspected. It would explain much - the disappointment I felt from them, more than just the anguish for failing Samantha. 

Scully keeps looking at me and I force myself to gaze back fighting tears and the shame that seems to always occur even though I've now accepted my life, secret as it is. "Mulder, just one more thing. _Krycek_?! Why of all people? Why _him_?" 

Why him, indeed. Oh, god...she's going to have me committed when she hears _this_! 

"I guess it's that 'bad-boy syndrome'. The thing that just has someone loving a troublemaker no matter how much they know they shouldn't. Maybe living on the dark edge like Alex is something I need some of. Then again..." I glance at the bedroom then back to her. "Maybe I just _love him_ and I _can't_ make sense of it. Ever been that bad, Scully?" 

Her nod surprises me. "Actually, yes. His name was Kent and he was a baseball player in high school. A very good one. He had the stats, 'the game' I guess you call it. He had the usual 'jock thing' too; somewhat arrogant, occasionally obnoxious, a bit contemptuous, far too over-board and absolutely damned _gorgeous_!" 

I grin broad at that as she continues. "He was a good student surprisingly, and my research partner in honors debate class. I was the bookworm, yes, but he liked me. Said I had spunk, good convictions on whatever we debated. He knew I'd be a lawyer. He hung with the jocks on campus and a somewhat _harder_ class of people off. He was a complete rogue, wasn't good for me for all the wrong reasons and yet... I couldn't resist that smug charm." Her gaze rakes over me. "Strangely familiar, that." 

Oh, that's a setup I don't _even_ get close to and switch tactics. "What did your folks think of him?" 

Scully's lips smirk. "They loved him. He was so dashing and debonair. Came to dinner a few times, always shook Dad's hand, called him 'sir'; brought flowers for Mother, called Melissa 'milady', held out our chairs at the table and kept Bob in stitches with some very comedy-club worthy jokes. He was just perfect. Dangerously _perfect_." 

Her eyes shift and I sense something changed. "He got drafted by the minors in our senior year. The word out was it was only a holding pattern pending some major league star's retirement but Kent was already taking it to the extreme. He played well and got paid well. He became a star on the team and I'm sure the majors were watching. He took advantage of every chance. He started off with lavish parties, excessive booze, maybe drugs but I never saw it, spending money too fast, had a limo to get me on a few occasions to join him for dinner. I was in college then and a bit reckless myself." 

She blushes and I nod my understanding. What kid wasn't, even a little? "He never took advantage, never tried to push himself on me, Mulder, understand that. I do believe he really liked me for me but I knew it wasn't the right thing. Finally he got the call into the majors and that was the last of that." 

"So...do you see him or hear from him at all?" 

Her eyes soften as do her words and I'm stunned quiet myself. "He was the first autopsy I conducted as an agent, Mulder." 

//Oh god.// "Scully...I-I'm so sorry." 

She offers a shrug. "Steroids. That was way before the serious accusations, testing and all, but the results were the same. Dangerous and in some cases, fatal. He died on an away game. There had been concerns when two others were found in the hotel in the same condition. The FBI was called in to investigate a possible serial killing with a sports fetish but the autopsies proved otherwise. Gross negligence on the athletes' part. The muscle striation and cell damage was indicative of high levels of testosterone. _Too high_ levels. Searches of their homes found the same vials, the same level of drug. It was determined they'd bought it from the same lab. A lab that conveniently vanished before a search could be made. All we found were empty drums and smashed equipment." 

I sigh, nod at her as we both know about that too well. She shakes her head in frustration. 

"We found nothing, Mulder. No logs, records, nothing to trace back to. The formal cause of death was listed as 'due to drug overdose' and closed. I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't. I preferred to remember him as a lovable, if foolish rogue. He was so loved, admired in our town the local press didn't elaborate. Avoided stating the obvious, simply saying he died due to medical reactions but everyone could read into it. His parents moved out of state a few months afterwards." 

She pauses, looks at me sternly. "Make no mistake here, Mulder, I'm not condoning this _thing_ you have with Krycek. Not in the least, so don't take my story out of context. I'm sighting an obvious. Kent didn't follow the safe path. Never did. Krycek's the same way. He takes risks. They can kill him. You too, if you're in the way." 

She stands up and I follow her, sighing. "Yeah, I know but I have to _try_ here, Scully. I've done so much to make things worse. I should have tried more. Maybe Alex couldn't have stopped himself but I could have tried better on my end. I could have listened. He tried to tell us at the airport that night. The diplomatic pouch? The rock, Scully? Remember what he said? Those bombs we caught him with were _nothing_ compared to what was to come. He was right. He gave me clues up the ass and I didn't see them. If I had he might not have lost..." 

I don't even realize I'm rubbing my left arm until she touches it. I jerk startled but her eyes understand. "It wasn't your fault, Mulder." 

//Nice try, Scully, nice one.// "I _dragged_ him to Tunguska. I used him because he spoke Russian. I tossed him into that truck to escape only to bring him back as a prisoner, Scully. Instead, I got away and left him wandering the Russian forests. I managed to get away. I woke up safe and he woke up... _Jesus_!" 

I'm rubbing my arm again, feeling the terror return along with the pain. She grabs it and squeezes pulling me back from my own private damnation. "Mulder...you have no proof that any of this is more than just an remarkable coincidence." 

"Scully, there have been numerous reports of dream states signifying more than a cerebral illusion. What about twins that are separated yet can sense the problems of the other? Can feel a need to contact the other and when they do, realize that their sibling was indeed in need of help? Was thinking about them? These are documented cases." 

"Documented by the abstract and arcane, Mulder; none which has ever been 'scientifically' confirmed beyond doubt." 

"Doubt, Scully, is the demon that hunts us all. Perhaps even more than fear. For when we doubt something, fear normally follows. _I_ thought, some time ago, you and I conquered both." 

Funny, I said that. All this time _I_ doubted, feared... 

She ignores my comment. "Mulder, you're _not_ related." 

" _Scully_..." 

"And even if you were" she goes on, " _I'd_ never admit I had scummy residue floating on the top of _my_ gene pool." 

//Damn!// "Scully...please. Don't." 

She lifts her hand, nods calling a truce, then lowers it. "So...what was he here for? What did he want? Did he plant another bug?" 

"No. He didn't have time. I told you, he came in, fed the fish and I called out to him. Scared him badly. There was no time. Besides I know about the jammer. No one saw him come here. If he wanted them, the Consortium, to know he was 'working' he'd have let them see him." 

She's looking at me carefully now. "Just _how_ do you know all this, Mulder? How can you be _sure_ that his coming here isn't some plan?" 

"Well...I can't. I just _know_ he's not here to hurt me. Not this time." 

She opens her mouth to say something else and a groan filled with more pain and anguish than anything I've ever uttered in my life of hurts wafts from the bedroom. I'm moving before I realize it. 

Alex is writhing on the bed, hands clenching, fingers digging in the sheets. His head rolls, over the lump I know that's there and the groan rises in volume. Then his body starts to convulse and Scully's practically tossing me on top of him. 

"Mulder! Keep him from moving! I'm going to get my bag!" 

She rushes out, slams the front door and I'm bouncing on the bed over Alex. I have a brief thought of how much I'd like to be bouncing _under_ him then I realize he's in trouble. 

I shift, drop my weight over him managing to keep from crushing his ribs and chest, let him draw in raw, harsh gasps of air but little else. He's not really fighting that much, body too weak to do more than roll back and forth but I'm not taking any chances. At least he's not trying to swallow his tongue. 

Scully's back faster that I expected (did she slide down the stair banister and teleport back?) moving towards me on the bed. "Keep him from moving as much as you can, Mulder. I'm working on a sedative." 

She pulls out a syringe, a small vial and quickly fixes up a shot, all while I'm playing 'cowboy' on Alex's jerking body. "Scully! I...I don't think I'll be able to move his arm for that!" 

She shakes her head, grabbing an antiseptic pad. "Forget his arm!" I get a second to realize what she said, then she pulls the leather back, swipes Alex's neck and jabs him! His body bucks once, trembles then settles quietly under me. 

"Get up, Mulder." 

I slip off Alex's body, ease back to stand as she drops down into my place, pulling out her medical gear. "I need to get this jacket and shirt off him. Help me." She tugs on a pair of surgical gloves then pulls out a pair of surgical scissors and I grab her hand. 

"Scully, don't. Don't cut the jacket. Or the shirt. He... Please don't." 

She looks at me in exasperation. "Mulder, I need to examine him. I have to..." 

"I know," I sigh, wishing she understood. "I'll help you, but please, _don't_ cut up his clothes. They're...they're all he has." 

Scully eases open Alex's jacket and slowly pulls out a Ruger P90 and I swallow slowly, sure she can hear the shock. The safety's on and she stares at it for a moment before easing it onto the nightstand and a good lean away from Alex. " _All_ he has, Mulder?" 

I must react too quick as she glares at me. How did I miss that? Was it because I truly didn't feel it lifting him or that I chose _not_ to? Either way, it's irrelevant now (still wish I had moved it, though) but I've refueled my partner's animosity. "Scully, would you just help him?" 

"I recognize that, Mulder. That gun's also FBI requisitioned." 

"Don't, Scully. Just don't." 

She can't let it go. "Mulder, he's stolen government..." 

" _It's his_!" 

She pauses staring at Alex, then me and I rake my fingers through my hair huffing. "It's _his_ gun. From...from back then. He was never wearing it when he was around us before so we couldn't get it back." I wonder to myself why he's wearing it now. 

"Mulder, we need to..." 

" _Scully_ ," I snap, my patience wearing here. "Just leave it be. Skinner's already reported it, Requisitions wrote it up or off years ago, just let it go. And please... _don't_ cut up his clothes." 

She stares at me for a breath, then nods in understanding and puts the scissors back in the bag but she's far from done with me and her clipped tone says more as she tosses a pair of gloves at me. "All right. Help me and try not to shake him too much." 

She didn't say ' _let's_ try no to' just 'try'. Now I know I'm so deep in shit I may never get my shoes clean. 

It takes a few minutes with us both working, Alex is pretty much useless, but we manage to get him topless without destroying his clothes and the shock of what I see pulls an agonized cry from me. 

He's so thin! The ribs prominent under the skin, the pale flesh nearly transparent; he's in worse shape than I realized. A well-fed, alert Alex would _never_ have fallen the way he did. This isn't him. I'm not sure what it is but it's almost on its last legs. 

Scully sees it too. I notice her features change, the cool clinical look melting into something I'd never thought to see on her face when looking at Alex Krycek... 

Honest concern. 

She hands off his shirt and leather jacket to me without a word. I ease them onto the bed's edge, pausing to finger the leather reverently. He'd kill me if anything happened to it. I know without even being told. It's worn, patched up in places (I know why) and broken-in to a softness that I can feel easily. Most people would have tossed it out ages ago. That he's kept it means it's special to him. I hope I get a chance to find out why. 

I stand there, trembling inside, while she checks his eyes, pulse, blood pressure, takes a swab sample from inside his mouth, a vial of blood from his arm, then works fingers through his hair massaging his scalp. She finds the lump and frowns, all the while making tongue 'clucks' and 'umps' and 'tsking' sounds like every other doctor I've ever heard, pissing me off with each sound. 

"Just speak 'English', Scully! _I_ haven't learned to speak 'physician' yet." 

She laughs at me, a soft chuckle that heals me in places I didn't know I was wounded. "With all the visits _you've_ made, I'd think you'd be fluent by now, Mulder." We both laugh softly at that then she reaches out, runs her fingers over Alex's arm, the left one; jerks back when he groans, hard, even unconscious. 

"What?!..." 

"It's real Scully, and... _sensitive_. He can feel it, even out cold. It hurts him." 

I expect her to grab it, wrench it off, anything to give him pain but she doesn't. Instead she stares at it carefully then murmurs, "Mulder, that isn't possible. How?" 

I tell her all of it again, including the parts about me feeling as if I'm watching the world through Alex's eyes. She gazes up at me with an ever increasing look of shock. When I'm done she stares for a moment at me then Alex before turning back to fix me was an incredulous expression. 

"Mulder, you can't possibly _believe_ that you two have been sharing a mutual dream state, do you? Viewing parts of each other's lives?" 

I sigh and shake my head at her. "Scully, I don't know _what_ to believe now. You were there that night I got drunk. You came here and I was already home. I don't think anyone brought me here _except_ Alex. I remember someone picking the lock, opening the door, putting me on the sofa and pulling a blanket up over me. I don't know of any taxi drivers that care that much about a fare, much less have a handy set of lock picks on them. I dreamed he brought me home so it _had_ to be him." 

"Then he probably ransacked the apartment afterwards. Did you determine anything was missing?" she snorts in disgust. 

I can't believe she won't accept this. "Scully...answer this. When you got the call to come check on me, did it sound like a normal voice? _Or_...did it sound altered, synthetic? Tell me that." 

She stares at me then Alex and back. "It sounded _just like_ him, Mulder. Metallic but just like him. I've heard his voice enough to know it. That's why I rushed over." 

"And you found me safe and sound on the sofa, hangover notwithstanding. Don't you get it? He brought me here and made sure I was safe then called you to check on me. Hardly the kind of thing a killer would bother with, now would he? And you _never_ mentioned the caller's voice. Not before or now. So, how could I know what to ask you? I know, because I remember. I mean, Alex remembered. How would I _know_ all this, Scully, if I wasn't sharing some perception of his memory? Tell me how?" 

She declines to answer me. Instead she pulls out her stethoscope and places it against Alex's chest. I know she doesn't want to accept my explanation but it's too uncanny to deny. 

Somehow...somehow Alex and I are linked. His thoughts, dreams, are mine and vice-versa. I have no idea how or why this is happening but it's significance isn't lost on me. 

"Well?" 

She leans back, slowly lowers her stethoscope into the bag and closes it, peeling off the gloves. "Come with me." 

I follow her back out to the living room, wait as she drops the gloves into a wastebasket where she turns, eyes serious, face in the medical mode that always leaves me a bit chilled even when it's _not_ in reference to _my_ latest ill. 

"Mulder, his blood pressure's so low I'm not sure I'm not imagining it's even there. His temperature _is_ elevated and he's not sweating due to dehydration. His pupil response _is_ sluggish but I've ruled it out from a concussion. He _is_ going to have a heck of a headache and a nasty lump but that's not the problem. He's like a marathoner that's reached the finish line only to find out they've tacked an extra twenty miles more onto the race. Instead of letting it go, he keeps going. He's exhausted, Mulder, near collapse. His resistance is falling, he could pick up anything and become seriously ill. He also looks malnourished. When was the last time he ate?" 

"He said two days ago." 

She gives her head a slow shake, red ponytail swinging gently. "I'd say try closer to a _week_. Maybe more. Mulder, he's living off his own body, muscle tissue. He's on the verge of starvation!" 

It explains why he didn't seem prepared to fight me earlier, gave in too easily to my ministrations and the whole falling thing. Why he was like a sponge with the glass of water. He's been on the run and not had a moment to collect, refresh and recover. That surprises me. "I wonder why he hasn't gone underground? Hidden in one of his safe places?" 

"You mean one of his 'rat holes'?" 

I look up sharply at Scully's comment but her expression seems more curious than insulting. "I...don't know. It could be that he's been compromised. They may know where they are. Perhaps he can't risk going to them now." I glance at the door and back. "What's wrong with him exactly? Is he having seizures?" 

Scully shakes her head. "Not exactly. They're not seizures. More like adrenaline rushes. Remember what I said about a marathoner? Krycek's pushing his body beyond its limits and more. It's as if he's trying to get the last bit of energy out every time. His body finds that rush, gives it to him, that extra bit of strength to do whatever then crashes. Harder and harder each time. His body, muscles, are overloading, burning it off and dropping him like a rock." 

She pauses staring off for a moment then fixes a hard look on me. It's enough to chill my blood. "Mulder...he's really in sad shape, run down. He can't keep this up. It _will_ kill him." 

Scully's words tell me a lot. There's a real hint of worry there and I know it's the doctor side of her; the Hippocratic Oath. I also know if she _wasn't_ a doctor she'd let him die. She still might regardless of what she sees. I can't blame her but I don't want him to die. 

"Tell me what to do." 

"He needs to be in a hospital, Mulder. He's borderline full collapse. He could suffer cardiac arrest." 

I stare at her, eyes pleading with her to understand, hear every word. "He won't go, Scully. He won't. He'd be better having a target stuck on his chest. They'd kill him the moment they realized where he was. Worse, whom he's with." 

"Mulder, we can put 'round the clock' protection on him. He knows things. We could..." 

I shake my head frantically, the thought of Alex in danger making my heart hammer my chest, force air out in a pant of anguish. " _We can't_! We can't keep him safe, Scully. Not in a hospital. They could be anywhere. A doctor, nurse, intern, anyone! There's another reason he won't go." 

She stares at the bedroom door for a moment then back to me. "What's that?" 

I swallow slowly, know what I've felt in all the dreams and give it voice. "He knows if they find him in a hospital they won't hesitate to kill him. Even if it means turning the entire place into a blood bath to take out witnesses. He won't let that happen. Not for him. He's many things but he _does_ have a conscious, Scully and he won't let an innocent pay for his crimes. Not _again_." 

There's weight in my words and a message. She gets it all. "Mulder...I...I can bring some things here. A few IV's, antibiotics, but he _needs_ to be in intensive care. His resistance is low. He could..." 

"Dana?" 

It startles her. I haven't called her by her first name that much. Maybe two times in all the years, this probably being the second. She looks up clearly shocked and I go even deeper. 

"Starbuck?" 

Her lip trembles as she stares at me. Her father, Captain Scully, gave her that name. She called him Ahab. They were close, closer than I _ever_ was to my parents. They both loved tales of the sea. When he died she honored him and his wishes, scattering his ashes to the very depths he loved. 

I waited, let her decide when she needed to talk and learned so much. They both loved 'Moby Dick', Scully often having her father read it over and over as a child. Named her dog after the first mate. I never liked the dog, didn't cry a tear when it vanished (okay, I think it got eaten) on one of our cases but I respected her grief then and when Captain Scully died. I know he wanted her to join the Navy as a medical officer, was disappointed in her choice but I also know he was proud of her regardless. 

I envy her, that closeness, but _I_ feel close to _her_. Enough to ask, use this way. 

"Please. Please don't tell Skinner. Don't make me turn him in. You _know_ he won't last a day if they find out we have him. No matter where we stash him they'll find him. Kill him. He's safer here just as he is; free to leave once he can. I...give me some time with him. Help me get him well then I'll let him leave. I...I don't want him to die. Not anymore. If he goes out in this condition he won't make a few blocks if they're looking for him." 

She's looking dubious, Alex has survived this far, but I'm right and I push it. "He wouldn't last an hour out there, Scully. Not now. Here, he's as safe as he can be. The jammer is still on; the one I told you about. I didn't turn it off and neither did he. They don't know he's here, for that matter, you. I know they won't hurt me; Cancerman's got some plan for me. He's done shit to mess with me, throw me off trails but he's not done yet and Alex is playing both sides. I need him _alive_. Maybe, just maybe, together we can stop the Consortium and maybe save ourselves. 

I reach out, gather her hands in mine and stare hard at those blue eyes. "Scully, I've not asked for much from you except to trust me. You've done that. Many times and in some cases, I was wrong. I'm not here. I _know_ it. Please help me. Please!" 

"You're in love with him." 

It isn't a question as much as a request for confirmation and I nod back firmly. "Yes. I _am_." 

She closes her eyes slowly and whispers in disgust. " _Damn_...Mulder." 

I don't want this to come between us. I _want_ us to work together. _All of us_. This is going to be harder than I envisioned. I release her hands in despair as she moves away and settles down on the sofa again. After a second I walk over and sit down next to her. She gazes at me quietly for a moment. 

"There's something I think you might want to know." 

I focus on her as her eyebrows narrow, the blue eyes locking on mine sternly. "I checked the back of his neck. No abnormalities. He's not a super soldier." 

I feel my jaw unhinge slightly, a wave of heat washing my face. I hadn't even considered... 

"I took that cell sample from inside his mouth for a reason as well as the blood. The fact it's red tells me he's human. I'll have the lab run a DNA test against what we have on file when he was in the Bureau, but I think it's safe to say that _is_ Alex Krycek in there and not a clone. The scaring on his body wouldn't be duplicated on a genetic replicant." 

Scully. My 'Rock of Gibraltar' in the chaotic storm that's my life. I really don't know how I got such a friend but I can't be thankful enough. I feel more heat wash my face until I'm sure I look like a boiled lobster. I. Hadn't. Even. Thought. 

She knows, the gaze going harder and reprimanding. "Mulder, the Alex Krycek _I_ know lost an arm. This one is complete. Whole. While we've both seen things that have made me believe, _some_ , where I once ruled out, this _could_ have been a terrible and fatale error for you. Basing your _safety_ on arbitrary and inconclusive remnants of REM sleep is a bit _presumptuous_ , don't you think?" 

I don't know if it's a real question or a flat punch to my gut but the results are the same. I'm stunned quiet. That in itself says a lot to both of us. In my desperate quest to bring some closure, some peace between Alex and myself, I could easily be dead now. 

Scully's expression softens, goes between exasperation and frustration. "Mulder, I could just slap the _crap_ out of you right now!" 

I lean in, turning my head to bear my right cheek. I need it. Instead she reaches up and strokes it gently adding a soft pat at the end. "Sometimes, I don't know _what_ to do with you. So, what have you decided?" 

"Scully, I...I care for him. I can't explain it but I've been attracted to him since day one. When he walked in with the bad suit, haircut and that 'awed' expression I wanted him then. I couldn't have him. I didn't dare. I had my job and the remnants of whatever reputation left to me to protect. I couldn't take the risk. By the time I realized I really wanted him, he was on the wrong side. There wasn't anything I could do then _but_ hate him." 

She's nodding in understanding but she doesn't get it. I'm going to hate this...I really am. "But what you don't know is _why_ I hated him. The _real_ reason." 

"And that is...?" 

//Okay, you can say this. She'll freak, but you need to.// "I...I hated him because I loved him. When I found out he was with Cancerman it was as if he'd cheated on me. I couldn't kill him no matter how much I hated him so the only thing I _could do_ was fight him. Every time he showed up here I took all my hate and anger out on him but not because of you, or Bill or Melissa or anything he ever did. I beat the shit out of him because I felt like he was cheating on me. Belonged to someone else. I hated him because Cancerman had him and I didn't. I felt betrayed and cheated on. So I beat up on him because I was...jealous." 

Scully's blue eyes go so wide they nearly vanish in the whites. "Mulder?! How _could_ you?! That's assault! Even for him, you can't just go around... You..." 

She drops her head trying to get a grasp on this, who I'm talking about and I can't even look at her. Finally she looks up. "Mulder, even _Krycek_ has rights though I'm loath to admit it. You _know_ better. As to the feeling of betrayal, you can't possibly think that he would let..." 

"No, I don't but I'm also not nave to doubt he's been used..." I turn to stare at the bedroom trying not to finish the sentence but it slips out anyway. "Often. And I'm sure _without_ permission. We know who he's worked for. They're good with drugs, Scully, I _know_. I wouldn't put it pass them and neither would you." 

She glances to the bedroom and back. I can tell I'm not close to cracking the 'ice princess' vein but she does seem startled. That, for Scully at this stage of the game, is a _good_ thing. I was wondering if she was getting _used_ to the weirdness. 

"Scully, I know it's more than just the feelings. I..." I glance off gathering my courage to say it and turn back to fix her with a serious look. "I dreamed... Scully, I dreamed I was _him_. With Cancerman. In... He drugged him then let his thugs use him. I know Scully, because...I _was_ him! I was lying... I watched them...felt..." 

"Mulder? Don't do that. Don't think..." 

It's too late. 

I can still remember this one _all_ too well, opening my eyes to see the smoking bastard staring down at me, teeth yellowed with nicotine, a slight puff of acrid blue-black smoke stinging my eyes. And _them_. Lining up one behind the other and me staked out on a bed like an ancient Aztec sacrifice, knowing it was Alex who really had my place. 

The smoking piece of shit hisses in my ear. "You've disappointed me, Alex. Perhaps one time too many. I hope after this little 'reprimand' you will _not_ disappoint me again." He leans back, blows out another acrid cloud of death and nods. "Proceed." 

I feel a burly hand force my face into a pillow a breath shy of suffocating. A sharp flare of pain races up my spine and suddenly I can't breathe, the terror too real. I jump up, my mind seeing me writhing across the bed, trying to flee. Scully's hand on my arm pulls me back to the 'now' but not before I find my breath and let of a wail of pure terror. 

"Mulder...don't! It's all right. You're not there! _Come out of it_!" 

I shiver from my head to my toes and draw in ragged breaths as she pulls me back to sit on the sofa. I can't look at her right now. "Scully, I _know_ why he's always been so hostile, angry and dangerous to us. It's the only time he's ever really been in control of himself. Whenever he's with _them_ they own him. He does what they want because they'll kill him otherwise. He's self-preserving and who wouldn't be? He's little more than a slave then and when has a slave ever _not_ been desperate to survive? Even when they're being rebellious? He's done what he's done to keep himself alive!" 

"It still doesn't _justify_ the things he's done." 

I have to nod on that. "No, but it _does_ define why he's tried to counteract them. He's not a villain on his own, Scully. Only when he's ordered." 

She seems to be getting it, the blue gaze widens with understanding. Alex hasn't _wanted_ to be an enemy, he was _made_ to be. Maybe more. "My god, Mulder," she breathes in sorrow. "Who _are_ these people?" 

I turn back and fix her with a gaze I know she's seen before. Committed. Convinced. This time I _do_ believe. "People we _have_ to stop, Scully, one way or the other and that man in there's the best hope we have of doing that. You're right, he _does_ know things but if he dies, _we_ know jack. I... _we_ need him. Alive. I need your help to do that. Please." 

She stares at me a few more moments then nods. "I'll pick up some things from the hospital and be back here this afternoon around one. I _do_ need some sleep, you know?" 

I manage to laugh a bit and she grins back. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll watch over him until then. How long will he be out?" 

She considers it for a moment. "He's pretty much out of it anyway. I gave him enough to sedate him for an hour or so. Any more in his current state might be risky but I don't think he'll need it. He's exhausted enough. Let him sleep as much as he wants, the rest will do wonders. If he's thirsty let him have some water in sips, don't overload him. He's dehydrated, so go easy. Too much too fast will make him sick." 

I'm suddenly anxious to get back to the bedroom as she reaches out and pats my leg. "Do you want me to call Skinner? Tell him you're taking some time?" 

I consider that. He's bound to wonder why I need it and where I'm going. I've never been much of a 'time-offer' and he knows it. I _wondered_ when my compulsive, obsessive nature would come back to bite my ass. "How much will I need? Just to get Alex back on his feet? Any more and I may have extra guests stopping by." 

She regards the bedroom door and shrugs. "Well, it's been quiet. Seems even our Consortium 'friends' have taken time off to enjoy the arrival of spring. I'd say after we get him re-hydrated, with a full night's sleep every night, start out with broths, light soups in case he's not up to or until he wants and can hold down solids...two weeks. Three would be ideal. However, I'm basing all that on previous medical exams from his time in the Bureau, Mulder. He was in excellent health _then_. I'm not sure what he's been exposed to since but he should recover." 

I've got a month plus the assorted holidays I never took - a good month and a half I'm sure but two weeks is the most I'd better push on. "Okay. I'll call Skinner, then email in my request. You'll be okay until I get back?" 

"Mulder... _I'm_ not the one to ask that question to. _You_ should be telling _me_. Despite whatever you think, _feel_ , he's not your friend." 

"I know that." I turn, gaze back at the bedroom and my sigh fills with heartache and perhaps some regret. I turn back to her and shake my head sadly. "But I _want_ him to be, Scully. Maybe...maybe more. I _do_ love him. I can't deny it anymore. I've loved him since the day I met him." 

I dip my head realizing I've confessed a great deal tonight then look up carefully. Scully's eyes are cool on me, her voice about even. "You're taking a big chance here, Mulder. I hope he's worth it." I keep quiet and she goes on. "I'll be back with the equipment as soon as I can. Be grateful I'm the medical examiner otherwise I might have a _hard time_ explaining this." 

I understand easily, she's used a lot of standard medical gear on her _normal type_ of patient many times. I wonder if Alex would appreciate the work on dead people keeping him alive. Better not ever ask. I nod once, murmur "Okay" as we move for the door. It's all I can do. I'm rattled. Completely rattled. Worried for and because of Alex. I'm loosing a grip on this situation. 

Scully opens the door then turns back. "Mulder...if I tell Skinner you're having some...well, _relationship_ problems and need a friend to talk to, I might be able to take some time off as well. I could suggest taking you away for a few days of 'R and R'. To talk. I could stay here and help you look after him until we can assess his health and situation. Would that do?" 

Did I just have a brain fart or something? Did she just say... She's looking at me patiently and I realize she _did_. "You... You'd _do_ that?" 

Her expression is both beautiful and warm, bathing me in a glow. "Yes. I can better monitor his health if I'm here. As much time as you've spent in a hospital you _could_ probably treat him but I _am_ a doctor." 

I won't deny I'd rather have her here if Alex needs emergency help but I'm expecting this is for a more personal reason and she doesn't waste time confirming it. 

"And in truth, Mulder, I don't want you alone here. Despite what you feel, we don't know how _he'll_ be when he wakes. I'd rather we _both_ watched over him." 

//Of course.// "And you'll watch over _me_?" 

She nods, lips twisting, trying to stay shy of a smile. " _Of course_. Bad habit, that. So, agreed?" 

The offer stuns me flat. I'm in tears before I can stop myself. Slowly I cover the floor, pull her into my arms and hug her with all my heart. "Thank you, Scully. _Thank you_!" She says nothing, merely hugs me back. 

I may yet make Alex my lover but _she'll_ always be my friend. 

My _best_ friend. 

* * *

Scully returned as promised right at one. 

I'd managed to get some rest, waking only twice to peek in on Alex who remained out cold. Rising shortly before noon, a jog, shower, cup of coffee and a bowl of Fruit Loops in that order later, I was ready to face my biggest challenge...restoring peace with Alex and strengthening my now fragile allegiance with Scully. 

From what I learned in my drams, I turned off the jammer when I left to jog (the 'boys' need to see some activity at my door), turned it back on again when Scully called from the road. Helping her with the equipment (not as much as I expected but enough) we entered the bedroom and the sight that greeted our eyes froze us both. 

Alex was still out but now seemed to be sleeping more than sedated. He'd turned on his side to face us, right arm curled under the pillow, hand gripping it in place. His left, pink and real was tucked to his chest, thumb held gently between even teeth. 

He wasn't really sucking on it, seemed more to be holding it in place. Whether the result of a subconscious lifetime habit or a need to confirm its presence he sighed, nuzzled the pillow and nibbled the digit gently. His next sigh was more contented and he slept on. 

His features were quiet, relaxed, the tension of his every waking moment eased into complete innocence and peace. It was a view as breathtaking as any I'd ever seen - a human version of the Grand Canyon and equally overwhelming in its sheer majesty. 

Those thick, dark eyelashes rested on his cheeks, the eyelids twitching slightly. I hoped the dreams this time were mild ones. He needed to rest. 

Gazing on him, my decision to help him was confirmed in ways I'd never thought of, made my heart swell knowing this _was_ the right thing to do. I felt my lips lift; a happy, thoroughly love-stupid grin forming and turned to Scully. 

What I saw _there_ melted the joy off mine as fact as acid. 

She was staring at Alex with the look I'd seen far too often - that cool, scientific gaze reserved for many of our most unusual cases. The look of one analyzing, considering, prepared to dismiss, debunk as she's always done in one way or another. Despite all she's seen, been involved in and had happen to her, Scully still has big doubts. Those doubts have a name too. 

Alex Krycek. 

I say nothing, keep my features moderate, that old parental saying brushing though my mind. For once it _is_ better to be seen and not heard. The kid in me gets the message and I manage to keep my mouth shut. See, I _am_ learning. Neither of us speaks as we setup the medical gear. 

A little later Scully called Skinner on her cell. I had to marvel at her willingness to cover for me yet again. She kept the discussion light, only telling him that we were getting ready to get on the road to the Pocono Mountains. Were going to rent out a nice bed and breakfast where her goal was to take me out for a few scenic tours along the parkways and give me time to unwind, talk on my own. It seemed to appease our boss. 

Then he asked to speak to me. 

I took the phone, listening to the stern voice I knew in my sleep. I told him I was well, yes, I was getting over the problem, yes, I _would_ talk, no, I wasn't going to get carried away if things improved and yes, I _would_ think carefully to be sure I knew what I was doing. As I thanked him again, promising I'd make sure to catch everything up, we ended the call. I handed Scully back her phone wondering what she'd really told him. 

If he knew I was here, nursing _Alex Krycek_ to health, he'd already be here; breaking the door down, SWAT team at his back. Alex would now be in chains and me... I'd be out the Bureau door, pink-slipped ass getting hit on the way. 

Fortunately, _my_ door remained solid, as best the continuous lock picking would allow, leaving us to do what I needed... 

To heal one man and perhaps save two. 

* * *

Alex woke around five that afternoon. It didn't get much better after. 

The first few days of his care were a bitch. There's no other way to say it, things were tight. I never realized how hard it is to keep order. I quickly gained additional respect for Skinner and the shit _he_ has to deal with. 

Did I _not_ say things were tight? 

Coming to and finding not just me but Scully hovering over him was almost enough to give Alex that heart attack she spoke of earlier. It took several long, drawn out talks of pure convincing him she was on 'our' side, only a bit less that _I_ was on his and he finally let us care for him. 

He wasn't good at it, huffing angrily one moment, begging us to let him leave the next. He was too weak to skip out on us, capable of little more than lying there growling and bitching but that was bad enough. Twice I thought Scully might shoot him just to put herself out of the misery of listening to him but she held it in check. 

Lucky Alex. Luckier me! I have _no_ doubt where the second bullet would have gone! 

That first mid-day, as she hooked up the IVs, pumped him full of every bug killer and nutrient she dared, he stayed unconscious. It was a blessing as she also inserted a catheter in case he was too weak to get to the bathroom. When he finally woke, saw us, let us go through the whole 'we're here for you' spiel then felt the catheter... 

Let's just say that Daniel's exploits in the lion's den were a piece of cake to caring for a dreamy, green-eyed assassin with a thorn in _his_ paw. That the 'cat' was privileged to a soothing bath, worse. Alex timed his awakening as Scully and I were sponging him down. 

Well...let's pass on that for now, okay? Just believe me when I say it was ugly. _Really_ ugly! The catheter, Scully, hell even me; you pick which and it added to the same. U-G-L-Y!! The following days and nights passed a bit better. A bit. 

Don't hold you breath now. Remember, I said it didn't get _that_ much better. 

One evening, I sat on the edge of the bed talking gently, still trying to assure Alex he was safe but Scully wasn't helping. Even though she'd agreed to remove the catheter since he could walk to the can with my help, moving the IV lines beside him, he was still anxious with her near. He barely let her do what she needed to, insisting he was fine; still pushing a near rabid need to leave. 

Yeah. Then you have to wonder why he didn't. 

I can tell you. He could only stand for a few minutes before he started to sway. He knew he was in no shape to run but try telling that to a man that spent his _life_ running. He was in deep trouble, knew it and that was enough to scare the piss out of him. 

I think for the first time he _really_ had to depend on someone to care for him. I think that terrified him. That he was depending on Scully and me, worse. Can't say I blame him. So when he tried to pull his weight, such as it was at the time, I gave in. 

Some. 

He insisted taking care of his hygiene needs on his own, and I _gave_ him that respect. I stood outside the bathroom door, (only after insisting he not lock it, just in case he got wobbly) let him take care of his needs in privacy (where was he going to go anyway practically naked?). He hadn't eaten heavy meals recently, the light broths we served him little more than fluid support, so we were lucky that a good piss was all he needed for the first few days. 

I'm glad for the good fortune. In retrospect, I don't know if I could have handled a wet wipe or him _letting_ me. 

He washed his hands after every visit. I never expected him to be so...neat, I guess is as good a term. I felt a bit more clear on things and made sure to wash up more myself. As to his baths, a shower wasn't a good thing with the IV's so he had to do with sponging off. We let him wash up on his own so long as he was careful, kept water away from his arm and hand where the IV's were inserted. He did an okay job I suppose. At least he didn't stink. 

He _did_ gripe about his hair being dirty, so later in the first week we managed a decent shampoo; him kneeling, leaning over the side of the tub while I scrubbed it and poured a pitcher of rinse water over it. I ignored his sighs of contentment knowing they weren't really all because of me, though I _wished_ I could take full credit for his pleasure. When we were done, I let him towel it dry himself, knowing that he needed to have some measure of control over his situation. 

When he was done he handed me back the towel, murmured a soft thanks and made a wobbly pace back to the bed, where he settled in worn out again and fell asleep. 

Funny, the man I once considered slime is actually something of a clean freak. No wonder he breaks in. Probably to write me nasty little housekeeping messages in the dust, although I haven't found them yet. Then again, I don't move stuff to look. 

The next day he was a bit better. He needed a shave by then, had started looking like a young version of 'Grizzly Adams' or perhaps the bear. Either way, he knew it and asked for a shaver. Scully produced one, a new disposable one, sighting it would provide a fresh, cleaner shave but what she didn't say spoke more. We all knew a better reason but no one addressed it, the blood tests still out. 

To protect Alex's already fragile pride, I think I made a snooty remark thinking maybe she thought I used mine to shave my legs too and it wouldn't make the grade. Her quiet, thoughtful look back closed my mouth and reddened my face. I'd forgotten she's seen me. _All_ of me. My legs really aren't _that_ hairy. Naturally! Alex merely looked at us silently but the green eyes glowed. 

Little, smart-ass shit! 

I let him have the moment at my expense as I gathered up the materials for his shave. 

He tried to do it himself, me holding the mirror for him as he applied a bit of lather I squirted from a can, but his hand shook too much. Disposable or not he could still nick himself badly. Finally, I took it from him, settled him back on a few pillows, eased down next to him and worked away. Every time the blades glided over his throat I felt him tense, heard the inhalation only released when I moved back to the rinse water. Guess I can't blame him. 

When I finished, wiping his face clean, letting my hand pause for the briefest of moments a look passed over his features. Figuring, wondering. I didn't give it time, moving to the bath. I returned with my bottle of aftershave and brushed some on his face. He blinked once, murmured a soft but startled 'thank you'. I merely nodded, 'you have to finish it, you know' and left him to rest. 

As I closed the door, I felt like doing a back flip but seeing as I didn't know how and Scully was still there, I managed a slight grin instead and went to help her fix dinner. I felt good, really good. My patience was paying off. 

The 'cat' was learning to eat from my hand and not to bite it. 

Um, where...ah, Scully. 

For _her_ part, other than making general medical references, she said little during all this; preferring to check the IV's, making sure the fluid levels were good, making notes on a chart she kept on the nightstand. Keeping her thoughts - good or bad - to herself she barely looked at me. But I knew. 

_I knew_. 

She _knows_ he didn't kill Melissa, we have that proof, but she knows he was _there_ and didn't try to stop it. Knows he fled in a panic. It hasn't helped. I know that _all_ too well. 

She's doing this for _me_. To help _me_. I know this also. Through the years of partnership, support, she knows the terror that's followed us, haunted us, is in part lying in _my bed_. She wants to purge it. Won't because I _need_ it. 

I owe her for this. I owe her! But this debt to Scully might be harder to repay; if it involves harming Alex...impossible. 

"Mulder?" 

I glance up and she looks back quietly. "His blood pressure is normal and that's a good sign but he still needs to be in a hospital." She glances around my apartment. "This isn't the place to care for someone like this." 

I smile back at her. She's good. Really good. I almost believe she cares that much, for Alex; for his health and well-being but I know who we're talking about. _Who_ we're dealing with and what he means (if I dare use that term) to her. She's using her medical opinions to mask her fierce, desperate need for justice and perhaps, vengeance; hiding her desire to bring him in. 

I almost believe my old partner. Almost. I believe the dreams _more_. What that says about me right now actually bothers me a bit. 

//Oh, Scully, I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry.// 

My happiness fades some as another layer of guilt is laid upon the foundation of my life. I know before my time is done it will have formed the groundwork for a very large house of emotion - a testament to all my shortcomings. Whether it remains filled with (what did Alex say in the dreams? Self-condemnation? Yeah...that's about right) depends on how I handle this. How long it takes me to form a bond between myself, the two people I care the most about and lastly (oh, help me) a bond between _them_. 

I know I have a great deal to do. Better start now. 

"Scully, you're doing a great job. Alex couldn't ask for better. I know he'd thank you for it. Um...if he were awake right now, I'm sure." 

Her back's turned to me as she rinses lettuce but her voice comes out loud-speaker clear. "Get that from the dreams, did you?" 

I'm learning, remember? I keep my mouth shut knowing her opinion anyway. Better not to confirm it. 

"If Krycek keeps the usual rest schedule I've been monitoring, he'll be awake in a few minutes from a nap. You should warm up some broth for him. And add some toast. Soak it a bit in the broth. I think he's ready for some light solids. 

Of course. The sooner he's up the sooner I have to keep _my_ promise. To let him leave. She hates it, but she kept hers. She knows me well enough that I'll fight to keep _mine_. 

No...it hasn't been easy. 

And now...let's add Alex back into the mix. 

He wasn't helping himself. Every time Scully approached, locked in 'Surgeon General Mode', Alex's eyes tracked _her_ \- a caged animal knowing it's time was short. When he woke right on time, she was easing a syringe into his line. I watched his eyes roll closed and knew what he was expecting - a death-row inmate on the last breath of life. I had to assure him he wasn't, that no call to the governor was needed either way. 

Trouble was, in that moment _I_ wasn't sure either. 

I watch her press the needle in, feeling a moment of uncertainty and fight every part of my body not to leap up to slap it from her hand. I have to trust her if Alex _ever_ is to. 

"Scully? What are you doing?" I murmur casually. 

She doesn't look up but addresses us both. "Relax, it's merely another vitamin supplement. B-twelve. Our patient was dehydrated and anemic. His electrolytes were down. This will help." 

"Our _patient_ , Scully..." I hiss, "...has a _name_. It's _Alex_! And he's awake so perhaps you should _use it_!" 

Right then my learning, all of it, went out the window and I got the flunking of my life. 'Restraining impetuousness...F!' 

Scully eases the syringe back, breaks off the needle and drops it into a sealed container on the nightstand before turning back to me. The blue of her eyes is as cold as her voice. I expected it. 

"I'm _very aware_ of his _name_ , Mulder." 

"Why don't you just overdose me and be done with it. At least I won't have to keep listening to you two _trying_ to act civil over me." 

We both notice a pair of delicious green eyes staring at us in pure disgust. "Ever since you two decided to play 'medical center' on me you've been just shy of actually slugging it out. Not that I wouldn't _love_ to see you two decking each other...well...ah, save it for my birthday. Otherwise, you'd be doing me a favor if you either let me leave or just kill me. At least either way, I'd go in peace." 

Scully shoves the rest of the syringe into the other side of the container and rips her gloves off with a snap. "Don't _tempt_ me, Krycek," she growls. Spinning on a heel she throws them into the wastebasket, storms out of the bedroom barely closing the door short of a slam and I turn on my guest in a huff. 

" _Don't_ antagonize her, Alex. She's the only thing helping you recover right now. I wouldn't push her concern." 

He shifts in the bed and glares at me. "Don't recall _asking_ for her help. Or _yours_." 

If he wasn't so weak, if I didn't _love_ him so much, I'd snatch his ass out of the bed and belt him. I fight that old habit hard and snap back. 

"No, you _didn't_. Instead, you fell over a table, smacked your head, passed out twice and could easily have been trounced by me with both hands tied behind my back hopping on one foot! You were dangerously dehydrated, close to starvation and far from capable of protecting yourself. You still are! You don't want help? Too bad, you've got it, so tough shit! And if I were you, I'd be _damn grateful_! We could always toss you out there to fend for yourself. You know you wouldn't last an hour in your current state." 

He glances to the door and back. "Well, you're _not_ me and she could _give a damn_ about my gratitude. She'll kill me the first chance she gets and blame it on my weakened condition. She works the Bureau morgue, who'd know? What's wrong, Mulder? Couldn't pull the trigger yourself?" 

I give myself a moment to count. To _one_! "That's _enough_ , Alex. Be quiet and get some rest." 

He sits up slowly and I have to marvel at his resilience. I watch him move, a wobbly yet animal grace to the action. I called him a rat but the reference was _always_ in regards to the garbage he hung with and dug into. In truth, he's a feline; sleek, in the past moving with a speed and power reminiscent of the big cats and far flung from any rodent. 

It's obvious he's feeling better but still nowhere near the sleek, high-powered creature I'm used to seeing. The action causes him to pant slightly but he does well to keep it subtle, the eyes keeping their tight gaze on mine. 

"Stop calling me that, Mulder." 

"Calling you what?" 

"You know and you heard." 

I realize the 'cat's' territory has been breached and injured or no, he needs to do a bit of marking and roaring to show he's still on the turf. "Well..." I chuckle, "I've only been calling you that for the past week or so. _Now_ you're upset." 

"I was _unconscious_ most of the time. I'm not now, so don't use it." 

He's trying to be a shit and doing a slam-bang job. I'm not really in the mood to spar. Scully's out there probably trying to decide if it's worth continuing to help me or better to march in here and shoot him. Maybe shoot both of us. She could always blame me for irrationality, worse insanity, and no court would hold her. I need to do serious damage control in the living room. I rise narrowing my gaze on _him_. 

"That's right. You _were_ unconscious, _Alex_. For hours that first day, off and on for days afterwards! You were on a knife's edge, a breath away from near shutdown, cardiac arrest and death! Now you're not. You're getting better, recovering, and _that woman_ out there is the reason you are! She's pumping you with everything she dares to get you back on your feet. She's giving you another chance to get Cancerman and his cronies and you need to _appreciate_ it." 

I stare at the IVs, watch him follow my gaze. "You're right about one thing though, she _does_ work the morgue. So, if she _really_ wanted to kill you, Alex, you'd already be dead now and..." I walk to the door, open it sighing. "And I'd _never_ know for sure." I level my eyes on him again. "Yet...you're still here. Amazing, huh?" 

I close the door leaving him to think. 

I find her in the living room, staring out the window, a fresh mug of coffee in her hand. I ease to her side and wait. This is hers to begin. If we're going to argue I need to let her make the first cut. She doesn't look at me when she speaks. 

"Mulder, I don't think I can continue to do this. I don't _want_ him to live." 

God...she slices deep. 

I keep my mouth closed (again, I _am_ learning) as she takes a slow sip and continues. "I'm trying, Mulder, I really am but I think you should reconsider your _involvement_ with him. He's dangerous, you already know that. He's a felon, wanted, it doesn't matter whether we have grounds or not, we both know he's involved. He knows everything, all about them and what they're up to. He needs to be arrested and taken in." 

"How, Scully? In handcuffs or a body bag?" 

She turns to face me and the feelings are written all over her face. She's thinking the latter. What he knows isn't _that_ important where _she's_ concerned. The heat of her anger is palpable between us but I don't back off. I've already flunked 'Peace 101' on two fronts, might as well go for the whole semester. 

"You're a doctor. I know it's your _oath_ holding all this together. It's the _only_ thing that's keeping you from euthanizing him, isn't it?!" 

"How _dare_ you?!" 

She shifts and coffee splatters her hand. She hisses but we both know she felt nothing beyond her anger. She's furious and I know it but I'm in deep and ready to wade deeper. 

"I _dare_ because I care about him. _I love him_! I _finally_ got my shit together like everyone's wanted me to and I'm doing the right thing. I _know_ it! I asked you to put aside your anger and help me but if it's too much, leave! Tell me what to do and I'll do it, Scully. Just tell me what to do and _leave_!" 

"I'm not leaving you here with _him_ , Mulder. While he was sedated, that's one thing, but not now! You _know_ you can't trust him. _I'd_ never trust him. He's dangerous!" 

After everything I've told her she still wants to whip _this_ horse. "Scully, it takes him five minutes to walk a few feet to the bathroom. He's worn out from that. And the eggs...remember? He turned almost as green as his eyes when you tried to get him to eat those soft scrambled ones. All he's had are broths, soups and juices to eat. A little bread. He's still weak. How dangerous can he be?!" 

Her expression doesn't change and it's a tug of war now, with neither of us ready to give an inch. 

"Scully? Do you remember Duane Berry?" 

She tenses, hands gripping the mug just a bit tighter. She remembers. I didn't need to ask. "What does that have to do with..." 

"Do you know who brought you back? How you ended up in the hospital? I didn't find you and neither did Skinner. Do you _know_ how you got there?" 

Her lower lip trembles and I know she knows; has known for some time. Even Skinner's had to accept this, though he'd deny it forever. _I've_ been silently grateful for it. 

This isn't about answers, it's about the _questions_. 

"Scully, _Alex_ had to have found you, brought you to the hospital and left you there for us to find. We had no clues to where you were, how to even _begin_ to search for you. Skinner and I got a call to go to the hospital and there you were. No one knew how you got there, no one saw. Who _else_ do you know that can come and go and not be seen? I _know_ he had to have found you. He has a lot more avenues to work; sources to pull. He couldn't do more but that was enough. He saved you because he knew without you I'd stop. Give up. Knew that without _your_ support I'd never keep going, try to find the truth. He _was_ on the wrong side then but still trying to do right. He's been waging the war on both sides but more on ours no matter how bad it seemed he wasn't. Yes...he's dangerous. _To them_!" 

"You don't have any proof to confirm this." 

"And _you_ have proof to deny it?" I murmur. "Then who found you, Scully? Tell me who?" 

She looks at me with a haunted expression and I sympathize. Who'd want to owe the man that watched your sister die? I know it hasn't helped. "Scully, I know you can't accept what I've dreamed, what I feel is the truth in this but I know Alex didn't want Melissa to die. Nor you. I _know_ he didn't. You may get on his nerves but I think he respects you. Enough he risked his life to find you. He _is_ trying to do right. I can bring him back. I know it!" 

Her face fills with worry and some sorrow. I'm falling over the wrong side of the fence and she knows it. "Mulder, he isn't Darth Vader and _you_ aren't Luke Skywalker. This _isn't_ a movie to bring him to the light. We need him in custody. I..." 

I'm loosing patience again and I don't have time to fight. Alex needs me more. "Fine! If you don't want to help then tell me what to do and I'll take care of him. If that's the case, _now_ would be a good time to say goodbye, Scully. But if you do, don't come back! Because _I swear_ , if I hear _any_ knock on my door I'll shoot whoever it is!" 

I'm moving back towards the bedroom before she can answer. I don't hold back the slam this time. Alex merely blinks at me, green eyes peeking up from the downy covers as I hiss, "Don't say one word or so help me, it won't be _Scully_ that takes you out!" 

He merely smiles at me, a smug 'I should have known' kind of smile and I cringe at my ineptitude at resolving this between them; grimace, knowing I may have lost my best friend while trying to find a lover and failing both equally. 

I remember my dream, that self-condemnation dial Alex spoke of accelerates, 'red-lines' just a fraction before I manage to put on a brake. Hard! 

Damn. 

"Alex...I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to say..." 

There's a knock and we both stiffen as Scully's voice floats behind the door gentle and (I don't _deserve_ this)...caring. "Mulder...I need to leave for a while. I've got to go home and check my mail, get some laundry done. I'll...I'll be back in three hours. Is there anything I need to pick up?" 

No...I don't deserve this, however, I'm going to dedicate my life to earning it. I feel like a heel walking over to open the door, smile out at her hopefully. "A quart of 'Rocky Road' would be good. Think you can corrupt your diet for a day and share a few spoons?" 

She manages a slight grin and I think we're gonna be okay. "I...I'll see what I can find. Keep Kry... _Alex_ resting until I get back." 

She said 'Alex'. Yeah, we're gonna be okay. 

I nod closing the door and turn to find Alex standing by the bed. I note the IV's dripping saline and nutrients onto the wood floor and only care as to where they're _not_ dripping. I wince as he pulls the needles from his arm, hand, at least taking time to drop them into the container as he presses the bandages down over the wounds. 

"What the hell are you _doing_?!" 

"Getting up to get dressed, what does it _look_ like?" 

I tilt my head smugly knowing it's useless to use force on him; it'd only start another war and I'm really wanting a dove or an olive branch right now. He's in defiant mode and I know I need to tread light, so I push with a playful tone. " _Looks_ like you're trying to relapse. Glutton for punishment, huh? Didn't you learn _anything_ from the catheter?" 

He answers me without looking. "I took a piss by myself, you know." 

His tone is so...sullen...a hint of 'defeated' and suddenly I _do_ feel for him. He did make it to the can on his own every time, though walking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa after a bender. "Yes, you did and every time you _looked_ like a senior on the tail end of a weekend-long frat party! If I hadn't known the truth I'd have sworn you were drunk. Alex, you're sick! Get back in the bed before I throw you down in it!" 

We both freeze as the weight of my words sinks in but I do better to ignore it. _His_ face blushes more under the flush of exertion but he moves, sways and manages to take a few steps. He's still wobbly, a mixture of his weakened state, all the medications Scully's given him and days in bed but I have to marvel as he reaches the chair in the corner and starts tugging up his clothes. I work hard not to notice the flash of white briefs in my face. Still, I can't help but smile. 

When we stripped him down for his bath that first night, he wasn't wearing any underwear much to Scully's shock and my thrill. He's got a _nice_ package, even soft. I couldn't help but wonder what it would look like hard and throbbing and working itself down my throat. That Alex's body seemed to hear me didn't help one damn bit. 

Now, let me set things straight for you. If you think just straight guys get hard for no reason, forget it! We're guys, too! We may do things differently, but we're thinking the same. We just do it, think, on a...curve (pardon that pun, please). Alex's body picked up on what was happening even while his mind was off. He went hard. Really nice and...hard. 

Ah. Just a moment. Let me get to that later. I need...to hold this image a bit more to myself. 

Thanks. 

It was all I could do not to groan as we tugged a pair of my underwear on him, my fingers slyly moving on their own brushing skin soft as velvet, hard as marble. 

If Scully didn't know about my orientation before, my shaking hands pulling up the covers had to be as loud as a traffic jam in Times Square. Bless her that she walked out without so much as a lifted eyebrow. _I_ tugged off my clothes and headed for a shower. I wasn't that dirty though. Not _my body_ , I mean. 

I don't know _how_ I managed not to scream as hard as I jerked off but I did, sagging against the shower wall stunned and sadly unsatisfied despite my orgasm. What I _wanted_ , _needed_ , was just outside the door in my bed (for crying out loud!) yet as touchable as mist. For the moment. 

By the time I recovered, dried off and tugged on fresh sweats, Alex had turned over in his sleep. I adjusted the IV lines to keep them from getting tangled, settled into the chair near the bed and watched over him. 

I spoke of this before but it bears repeating. Have you ever seen an angel sleep? A child? An infant? Ever watched the simplicity of peace, the display of innocence veiled in rest? Alex looks like that when he sleeps. His face is soft, lips slightly parted, features devoid of any animosity, smugness or wariness. 

Yes, I know who I speak of. _I'm_ talking about _Alex_ ; the man I see and not the killer I know. 

That first night and those afterwards as I watched over him, I saw it again - the beauty that _is_ this man and ached for the neglect, abuse and punishment that wore down so glorious a canvas. I know like any marvelous piece of art he _can_ be restored; brought back to the full brilliance that was once his true being but am _I_ the artist to repair him? 

I don't think I'm _worthy_ to dip my fingers in the paint that created so beautiful a work but I _know_ I'm probably the only one left that can try. Perhaps I yet posses a talent and skill to bring out the best he has to offer. 

I'm sorry. Waxing poetic and thoughtful at moments like this is just me. Ask Scully. Anytime. 

Ah, where were we? Oh yes, Alex and white underwear. 

I push my thoughts back to the moment as Alex moves again, the briefs molded to an ass that looks better only two other ways: bare naked or poured into those jeans he wears. I've seen all three and yet for some reason I like this look a lot. Makes those 'Hanes' commercials even more appealing and I wonder if Jordan has an opening for a gorgeous new model. The thought of other guys ogling _my_ baby makes me both jealous and thrilled. 

My baby. If only. 

I was delighted Alex fit the briefs, more that he didn't make a comment when he found them on nor fussed when we made him wear them afterwards. I told him it was for Scully but maybe he knew the real reason. I get a feeling he may take up the habit if only to enjoy having someone take them off him. Preferably, slowly and with just their teeth. 

Did I say _someone_? How careless of me. We know who I was speaking of, of course. My lips are starting to turn up in a grin when he shifts slightly and snarls over his shoulder at me. 

"Get this through that thick, mule head of yours, Mulder. I'm _not_ letting you take me in! I'm not letting _Scully_ take me in! I appreciate the help, really, but you try it and I'll kick your ass! Hers too!" 

//Well, well. Here we go again.// 

"I'm not staying here to get dragged off to the Bureau by either of you. And _don't_ try to tell me that wasn't what you were talking about out there." 

Seems the 'cat' is feeling much better, has marked, roared out a warning and now needs to sharpen his claws. I offer myself as a scratching post. "Actually...we were arguing about euthanizing you." 

The leather jacket drops from his hands as he turns, face still pale and now terrified. " _What_?!" he pants in a hoarse voice. 

"Suffice to say I was angry, she was angry, we said angry things. I likened her to wanting to put you down. Like an old dog." 

He's turning back to his clothes, bends down to pick up the jacket and rises swaying, the tremor in his voice floats right out to me. "Where do you _get_ shit like that, Mulder?" 

I'm again glad we hid his gun. Right now I wouldn't blame him if he shot us both and ran like hell. "From my dreams, Alex. Funny. Ever dream, feel like that sometimes? Like putting someone down like an old dog?" I think about the punks in the alley, his thoughts and wonder. 

He sighs, lowers the jacket and sits back on the bed's edge. "Yeah. Yeah Mulder, I have. Now and then." 

I settle down next to him, not too close, but enough to let him know I'm comfortable with him. The moment surprises us both but it's _his_ eyes that go wide. "Alex, tell me what you dreamed. All of it. I...I'm sure you've had some restless nights. I know _I_ have..." //Just say it!// "Um...five nights in a row in fact. That is, _before_ you came to the door." 

That gets him. I watch his eyes tense. Yeah, I was right. I'm not the only one that's had some rough nights. 

"Ah... _you_ first." 

I nod and start my tale. "Well, that night...um, the one you came here, I dreamed I came home and you were here waiting for me. You jumped me. K-kissed me." I ignore the flinch in his features. "I wanted...I guess I wanted to make some peace with you. I fed you shrimp fried rice and beer." 

He actually laughs at this, head tilted back with a weak but throaty bark then stares at me levelly. "Hope you had all your windows open, Mulder. Chinese food gets to me. I know you remember that little ghost sighting case we went on? The stench in the car after we had lunch?" 

Now, _I_ blush. So _that_ was the reason. " _You_ said we must have passed a skunk!" 

Green eyes flicker as he nods. "We _did_! 'Passed one' I mean. Thanks to your perpetual Chinese lunch breaks. I tried not to, I really did but I couldn't help it." 

I frown but try not to sound too pissed. "You _could_ have warned me that day or at least apologized. The fucking car stank!" 

"Mulder, I'm _really_ sorry." 

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died that day anyway? A whole elephant herd?!" 

Green eyes go a bit weak. "I didn't think it was going to be...you know, one of those 'silent but deadly' ones. I did roll down the window." 

"And _I_ rolled it back up because it was cold and rainy. I finally had no damn choice; risk pneumonia or asphyxiation from toxic fumes! I chose pneumonia and lowered _all_ the windows. You're more dangerous than I realized." 

I chuckle to take the words to a different level and he manages to smile some. We sit in silence for a few moments before I think of something important. "By the way, for what it's worth...it _was_ damn impressive." 

He turns to regard me, eyes bright. " _Really_?!" 

"Oh _hell yeah_! _I'd_ have claimed it." 

"No shit? _That_ good?" 

I nod, "It was primo, Alex. Primo!" 

He beams with pride. " _Damn_... Thanks, Mulder. _Thanks_." 

Ladies, it doesn't matter if we're gay or straight, we're _guys_! You _can't_ understand it so please, don't try! Guys, _you_ know how it is. 

Alex and I chuckle knowingly and I realize something wonderful has just happened. We're actually sitting together chuckling about _farts_! Chuckling like guys do and the moment is _so good_ I start to grin like a fool. Alex chuckles a bit more then nods. "Let me guess...no more Chinese for me?" 

I nod firmly. " _Oh yeah_." 

Alex nods again. "O'kay. Sorry to ramble there, Mulder. Go on about the dream. What else?" 

The good moment fades some, I feel heat on my face and shift nervously. "There _was_ nothing else. We kinda made peace that night. Some. Sat around, drank beer; watched TV. It was...nice." 

"Yeah?" He seems surprised. "Yeah, I guess it would be but that's not all, is it? You're holding something back. You said I kissed you. I heard that. I know you didn't take that kindly. You didn't before but I got away with it since I gave you a tip. Besides, I was wishing you luck. It's a Russian thing, the kiss. So...what else happened?" 

He was wishing me _luck_?! He was really _concerned_?! What am I _doing_?! I'm ready to walk off, let this go but I need him to know how I feel. I said I wanted to do better. Here's the time. 

Now I can't stop the blush, the rush of blood to every part of my body including one I don't need enhancing and moan. "You _know_! You, I, we ended up in my bed. Were making love and..." 

His eyes go too wide and I feel like choking. //Okay, you can _do this_! You've already told him the worst.// I look up and steel myself on those eyes. "And you told me you _loved_ me!" 

"You-you told me you loved _me_!" 

Suddenly his face pales, eyes filled with shock. He realizes what he just said, can't take it back no matter _how_ well he lied. Alex Krycek confessing? Anything? It's a shock to both of us, more so that he repeats it. "You...you said _you_ loved _me_." 

//I...yeah. I did, didn't I?// 

Before I realize I'm doing it, I drop to my knees before him, lift my hands to take his face, ignore the sharp intake of air and his eyes go wider as I brush my lips against his. I feel the warm puff of breath on my face and a hint of citrus. I know Scully likes that new citrus-flavored Crest toothpaste... 

Oh, shit! I _do_ love her! 

And I need to kiss _him_. I swear, I need to! 

"Yes. I do, Alex. I...I think I'm in love with you. No, not think, I _know_ I am." And with that, I lay a good solid smooch right on his mouth. 

God! His lips _are_ soft! Really. Despite still being slightly dry from his illness. Regardless, I want to gnaw them off but reign in the urge and let this kiss go chaste. No tongue, just a gentle press of flesh to flesh. I can feel him trembling but he doesn't try to kiss back; merely lets me press our mouths together. 

Finally I release him and ease back, let my eyes telegraph a settlement and hope he agrees. Someone's got to make peace here so I might as well be the jerk that takes the chance. 

Well okay, I said it. Now he knows. He'll probably use it against me or give that tidbit to the Consortium. It'll be water cooler fodder by ten tomorrow. Guess if I wake up I can turn in my gun and badge, well maybe just the badge. I may want to shoot myself for this later. 

Alex pulls away, tugs free from my embrace and staggers a bit stepping around me, bracing himself with a hand on the bed. "Don't _do_ this, Mulder. Please. Don't hurt me." 

It comes out in a rasp - raw, knife-edge of pain - that slices through my chest, curving around my heart and I gasp at the physical intensity. I don't understand, I thought he wanted this too. I could feel... 

"Alex, I don't plan to hurt you. I have no intention of doing that _ever_ again. Why would you think..." 

He looks up, green eyes weak with something that has nothing to do with his recovery and croaks, "You already are." He eases around the bed, hand keeping him upright just barely and reaches for his shirt. "Just let me leave now. Tell Scully thanks. I owe her but I can't stay here. They're looking for me. If they find me here..." 

"They won't bother you here, Alex. They don't want to stir me. They're watching me but I'm their little mouse in the maze. They want to see where I go and what I do, so they have to keep me happy. That means not stirring me. They won't hurt you if they think I'm protecting you." 

He grabs his socks and starts to put them on. I bite back a grin at the fact he didn't put the jeans on first. He really does work from the bottom up. "Mulder, it's not me I'm worried about. If I'm here it just gives them a reason to attack you. We're both safer if I'm gone. Scully too." 

I tilt my head and stare at him coolly. "Since when have _you_ been concerned about my well-being? Or Scully's, for that matter?" 

He murmurs softly but I catch it all the same. "Since always." Then he glares at me. "I can't stay here, _okay_?! My presence here is dangerous!" 

I give him a headshake, he's not listening to me. "Alex, I can protect you. Scully can..." 

He answers back with a loud snort. "You can't take care of _yourself_ much less Scully. _Or_ me. What the hell do you think we are, the 'Brady Brunch'?!" 

I can't resist, I really can't. I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him with a cool smile. " _Sounds_ like it. You probably do a good 'Jan' I'm betting. What's next, Alex? A cry of 'Mulder, Mulder, Mulder'?" 

He laughs at me. Really lets out a good belly laugh. It's nice. He needs to do it more. "Cute. Really cute." Then he sighs and I know he's not buying when his voice goes soft and pained. "Look...Mulder, I _need_ to go. If they find me here..." 

"They'll find _me_ here too, Alex, only they might regret it. I won't let them take you. I'll kill them. Just like _you're_ doing." 

That stops him cold. He jerks up (bad move), groans with dizziness but stays upright. "How the hell do you know what I'm doing? I never said..." 

I take a careful step forward, he's jumpy and I don't need him crashing into anything else. "I _told_ you, I've been dreaming about you, yes? Well that wasn't exactly the whole truth. What's true is I _have_ been dreaming about you but not just _about_ you. I've been dreaming I _was_ you, Alex. I know you've been hunting them. The Consortium. I know you've been taking out Cancerman's goon's wherever you find them, I know how you got you arm back and I know you're with the rebels. I know, Alex, because I've been _living_ your life. Through my dreams." 

It's a lot. Too much. His arm gives out and he manages to flop down on the bed with a gasp. "You...you said that before. How? _How_ do you know this?!" 

I tell him everything, in a burst of words. Every dream, every feeling that I shared, save the important ones. I need to wait for that. I watch his face run a gamut of emotions: shock, doubt, horror, confirmation and finally acceptance. He believes me. Only because he _knows_. He's been dreaming too. 

"Mulder? This is freaking me out. Really." 

I glance over. He _is_ looking shaky. I can only imagine _my_ expression. "Alex? Don't go. Stay here. With me." 

He shakes his head reaching for his clothes again. "I can't. I need to leave before daylight. I can't stay. I've risked too much here as it is. They may be watching. The jammer works on the door but if they're monitoring through the windows they know something's up. I told you to turn it on and off for a reason. They need to see you come and go normally. If they saw Scully...the equipment... They know I'm here, Mulder!" 

I'm either thick as the proverbial jock or more nave than I realize. I don't get it and push for more. "They probably know I went after something, did something stupid and got hurt. Again. It's my 'raison pour tre', Alex, my reason for being. They know that. Even _you_ know that. That's not the reason you want to run. Tell me the _real_ one!" 

"Look...there's nothing else. I need to _go_!" 

"Why? Why don't you want to stay here? With me? I...I thought that's why you came here that night. You _wanted_ to be here. Why leave? Don't you want to stay with me?" 

I'm a bit shocked by my desperate tone but I stare right back at him. I've got a chance to have something I've wanted and perhaps... _needed_ , all my life. A chance to correct a great wrong committed on the one person I'm beginning to understand didn't have that chance. 

He looks up at me, those beautiful emerald eyes filled with something that tightens my heart and I mew in pain. Eyes filled with something I can finally relate to. Despair. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I _do_. And that's why I _can't_." He rises again. "Mulder, thanks...for everything. I...I need to..." 

"Alex? My _name_ is _Fox_. You can call me that. At least tonight. If you... _want_." 

That shocks him completely. I don't let anyone call me that except my mother and I don't expect to hear from _her_ anytime soon. He sags back onto the bed, still holding his jacket. I reach over, take it from him and drape it back on the chair before I settle down next to him. 

"What's wrong, Alex?" 

He's staring at me, a mixture of disbelief and deep gratitude. "I... You've said that before. I know. I'm sure..." He shakes his head. "I'm sure you've said it before. I just can't remember..." 

I chuckle back at him knowing he's lying. His expression is too open about it. _I know._ I lean in, press my hand to his chest, smile as he eases back onto the covers eyes never leaving mine. Pray that everything in my dreams, his, _ours_ isn't some concoction of my frustrated sexual life or lack of. I'm about to take the biggest leap of faith I've ever done. 

If I'm wrong, it could kill me. Literally! 

"I know what else I said. I love you, Alex. I...I _always_ have and I'm sorry. For... _everything_." 

I brush my hand gently over his left arm in meaning, wince as he gasps but I don't stop. My fingers trace every bit of flesh, feel him tremble under me as I hover over him. "Alex, I...I need you to forgive me. For what happened in Russia. I need you to know that I'd..." 

He brushes me off with a carefully guarded smile. "Nothing _to_ forgive. I didn't exactly level with you back then. You did what you felt was right. I should have hauled ass too. My bad. No biggie." 

//Oh god, Alex, it _is_! I saw the results! How the hell you endured...// I want so much to make this up but his expression warns me. I can't do anything more with _this_ if he's not ready. He isn't. Still, I _can_ give him something for now. 

I lean in, brush my lips against his again and nip the bottom one gently. "I think I know how you got it back, your arm, but I won't ask now. I'd rather we _stop_ talking." 

That earns me a nice chuff of amusement. " _You_? Stop talking? Damn... I need to call CNN." 

I can't help it. I laugh at him and take the humor to his mouth. He moans under me, lips parting to let me ravish it. It's warm and soft and tastes of citrus and Alex. I prefer the latter more. I break away and nuzzle his cheek, the rasp of new growth on both our faces actually enhancing the sensations. Then he splashes a little cold water on me. 

"Mulder? Scully's probably on the way back. I need to go..." 

//Oh, the _hell_ you do!// 

I spread out my body, digging my hands into the sheets and pin him to the mattress with a snarl. "Alex, I'm getting _really_ tired of you wanting to bail on me. If this were a date I'd probably dump a cold drink in your lap and maybe slap you. Since it's not, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you." 

He looks up, eyes so wide, the green faded and I know he's scared. I wonder if my petite pal knows the power she has. "Alex, just listen to..." 

"No!" he squirms under me. "I'm sorry I came here, Mulder. I was shaky, needed a place to rest. I thought I could hide here for a bit. I didn't know you were here that night. I just wanted to catch my breath. I'm sorry. Let me up!" 

He twists some and I feel something that opens my eyes wide. //Well, well.// 

"Mulder, let me _up_!" 

//Too late, baby. You already are!// 

I press my hips down hard, feel a firmer response against me and grin as he freezes. "Alex, your mouth's spouting one line but your body talks louder. If anything you should have learned from partnering with me, is that where I'm concerned physical evidence is _far more_ convincing than rhetoric. As to Scully...well, she _knows_. About me. _And_ you." 

That gets him, the six-feet of 'sex on legs' under me goes stiff and not the way I'd like. I lift up to gaze into a face so shocked he'd do a horror movie proud. "Sh-she...she _knows_?!" 

I nuzzle him again chuckling. "Yes. She knew I was gay years ago. She knows you are too. Now." 

He pushes up on his elbows and I move back to give him some room watching the green darken with worry, locked on the bedroom door. "I-I need to go, Mulder! Let me up!" 

I have _no_ intention of doing that nor listening to him any more. "Maybe you've missed my previous message so let me transmit it again. Scully _knows_. _Skinner_ knows I'm gay and whether we both like it or not, he probably knows who I've wanted. For years." 

His eyes snap from the door to lock on me, nearly bug out of the sockets. Whoa. "You...you...what?" It's whispered almost too low for me to catch but I know what he said. 

"I _said_ I've wanted you. For years. Always. From the moment you walked into the bullpen in that bad suit and worse haircut, I wanted you. I didn't do anything because of my job. My life. I...I couldn't. Then you...the problems started... I didn't know what to do, if I could trust you." 

"So...you decided to show your affections by pounding me into the wall or the concrete? Real romantic streak you've got, Mulder." 

"Stop it, Alex." 

" _Love_ to see what you do when the honeymoon starts." 

"Alex..." 

"But then...I probably wouldn't _survive_ it to even worry..." 

I lean in and cut off any further words and perhaps his breath with a harsh kiss. Seems he needs a little 'tough' after all. I work everything I can into it before pulling free with a fierce sucking sound and pant, " _Why_ are you trying to piss me off?" 

"Why are you trying to _sc-scare_ me?" 

"Scare you? What the hell makes you..." //Oh. Oh, no.// "No Alex, I'm not pulling some mindshit on you. I...I'm trying to make you understand that I _love_ you. Do you...love _me_?" I grab his left arm, dig my nails in slightly. "Do you _love_ me?!" His wail is the most beautiful sound I may ever hear. 

"Yes! Jesus, Fox, _yes_! I love you! Oh, god, I _love_ you!" 

//He said it! God, he _said_ it!// 

Hands suddenly grab me, pull me down with a grunt as he's trying to kiss me, lick me and swallow me whole! "Yes, Fox. Yes, I love you. _Always_ loved you! Yes!" 

He starts babbling...going on how he really _did_ follow my work at the academy, how he dreamed of working a real case with me; the shock and sudden pride of getting the chance, the awe and nervousness of proving his worth then the trouble - Cancerman, Cardinale, all of it and the deep despair of realizing your dream of being a hero's turned you into a 20th Century Benedict Arnold. 

He's crying now, head buried against my neck, and the tone's full of anger and disgust. 

"I _tried_ , Fox. I tried to do it right, win it for the home team, but they used me, fed me shit about Scully, you, made me think I was doing the country a favor. I was wrong, so fucking wrong! Then you started to figure things out. I did too but I was too... So I tried to keep you safe, get Scully back for you, killed Bill Mulder to keep him from burying you deeper, but then it was...too late. I was in too deep. They owned me, used me, tried to... But I...I couldn't undo it, couldn't..." 

I cut him off with another rough kiss. I don't want confessions, apologies or guilt. We've shared enough of all that before but as I pull back his eyes find mine, search them carefully trying to make sure this isn't another game. One he's not ready for. 

"I...I'm sorry too. Fox, I never meant to do all the..." He stops, shakes his head as if to toss all the emotions away and whispers. "Please. I just need... I need to _know_ you need _me_ , Fox." 

Hearing my name now is different. Before, I never liked it, the sound often made into a joke but in Alex's voice it's perfect. That throaty, rumbling purr seems _made_ to say my name. I wonder if it's made to scream it. I need to know something myself! 

I reach out and he flinches (god, I _hate_ what I've done) until my fingers touch him, gently brush the tears away. I settle against him carefully, feel the ribs against his skin. He seems refreshed but he's still got a way to go. I brace most of my weight on my elbows, reluctant to cause him even the slightest distress. I've done enough of that already. 

I realize this may not be the best thing to do right now and despite my need, I voice my concern. "Alex, I...we _can_ wait. Until you're better. Just being with you, having you near, is okay. We can wait. I...you haven't eaten anything. I should fix you some soup or something. Scully brought some chicken noodle this time. She said you've had enough bland stuff." 

He smiles at me, teeth bright and I'm locked on that gleam. "Chicken noodle? The all time cure-all for the world? Mulder, I'm flattered but I think there was something else more important on your mind." 

He switches emotions like turn signals and suddenly I realize I need to keep up with which road I'm on. I'm embarrassed for my insensitivity and counter my impetuousness with a gentle chuckle. "We have _time_ , Alex. You're health and recovery is more important. We don't have to do this _now_." 

He lifts his hand, traces my face, my lips and those beautiful green eyes fill with a look that burns itself on my retinas. I'll remember it even in death. "We don't but we are. I'll trust you to be gentle with my fragile health." It comes out smug, defiant and a bit typical smart-ass. I love him for it. 

"Mul... _Fox_?" He says it carefully, cautiously now, as if he's unsure he really has permission. I confirm it's his to own. 

"Yeah, lover?" 

My declaration pulls a look of deep appreciation from his eyes. Guess he's never been called that before. I may make him sick of hearing it. "I... I'm clean, Fox. I got checked a few months ago. I'm safe." He averts his gaze with a deep sigh. "I may not like doctors or hospitals but I'm not stupid. Still, it's not like I've been bed-hopping lately. Or 'one bedding' for _that_ matter." He looks back carefully. "My sex well's pretty dry." 

I already knew that. Scully left a note on the blood results. Aside from being a bit anemic, he's as clean as the proverbial whistle but I'd rather he not know _everything_ we checked. 

He's a hybrid too. Scully found too many things. His DNA's been re-written as well. I already know that lump on his head's long gone. I bet he heals faster too. He's weak from lack of proper food and sufficient rest but he's picking up fast. In truth he should have been dead well before he snuck in that night. I don't know whether to be grateful for alien tampering or not. 

I know one day we'll need to, should, talk about this but not now. I'd rather acknowledge his honesty. 

_Honesty_? From _Alex_? 

Whoa. 

I even out my expression to appreciation. I _said_ I wanted to acknowledge him. "Thanks, Alex. So am I. Scully ran me through the medical washer two weeks ago. I wouldn't joke about this." 

His eyes narrow slightly at that and I remember his own words in my dream. How weird _is_ this? "Then of course..." I mutter, "I'm not exactly a dating demon either." He keeps his expression neutral and I wonder if I should pass. "But I...I don't want you to feel you have to do anything you don't want to. I mean I _have_ condoms, I..." 

He cuts me with off with a sigh, smile cautious. "Mulder, if _you_ have any condoms they're already fossilized. It's okay. I know you play in the ocean but I also know you _do_ know when to come out when the tide's high." 

I have to smile at that. It's an intriguing analogy and spot on. I do play but carefully. I wish I could have waited, held myself for this man. I'm no virgin but in this moment I deeply wish I were. I'm about to experience something wonderful and the parts of my dreams I treasure the most come full circle. Still... 

" _I_ have some in my jacket, if you want to use them..." He looks up at me, licks his lips. "No one's ever been with me without one, Fox. _No one_." 

I know. I remember the dreams. I saw. Cancerman wouldn't even let his goons near him without them. For that I'm grateful even if I still want them dead. 

"Fox?" 

I glance up and Alex's expression is so needy, so _wanting_ , I know what's he going to say before he draws in a breath. "I want this. With _you_. If you don't want to again I'll understand." 

Oh, I'll want to. Believe me, I'll _want_ to! "You _sure_ , Alex? I'm not pressuring here. I don't want to push you." 

"Funny. A few moments ago I thought that was _all_ you wanted to do." 

I shake my head. "No Alex, really. I don't want to... What?!" 

Alex's smirking at me. Really looking smug. "You either don't get it or you need some coffee, Fox. Either way, you're running slow." 

//Don't get _what_? What did he say? I say? Um... I said I didn't want to push...// 

//Oh, you little smart-ass fucker, you!// 

My face must chance because he's suddenly laughing, a warm, rich sound that's like smooth bourbon sliding down my spine, filling me with a heat I can't fight. I feel a bit light headed and wonder if it's possible to actually be inebriated by sex. I'm looking forward to researching this potential 'X-File' _personally_. 

"Then you're okay, Alex? Sure?" 

The green gaze darkens slightly. "Yes. I'm sure. I need this, Fox. I need to know..." He draws away, tensing and I feel the windows coming down, closing him off. He doubts me, maybe himself. Before I can say a word to assure him, he shoves a mental shoulder under them slamming them up permanently. "I... Please, Fox. Please. Fuck me. _Now_!" 

Yeah. He's sure, now so am I. "All right. We'll take it easy. Go as slow as you want." 

He grins up at me and that wicked humor's back. "Ummm...slow. Now that sounds _really_ nice." 

"Slut," I snicker. 

He grins back at me. "Whore. Who was it mincing around in the red Speedo?" 

So, he _did_ notice. Damn. If I'd _only_ done this back then... "Tramp! Who's a walking billboard on legs for 'what comes between me and my Calvin's', huh? And I don't _mince_!" 

He takes my playful banter and turns it into something deeply wonderful for us both. "You _do_ mince and I'm _not_ a tramp!" He turns his head to stare off in mock-insult growling, "I've got better class than _that_! And I _wear_ Levis." 

He's right, he does. On both counts. He turns back to look at me firmly. "Confession?" I nod and he smiles weakly. "Do you _really_ want _me_?" 

I answer without a word, grinding my hips into his, letting him feel the ache and drag nails along his arm. He jumps under me and pants, "Okay, okay, OKAY! So...do you plan on fucking me or just keeping me warm?" He pokes a finger at my jeans and shirt. 

I'm up fast, tearing my clothes off flinging them around the room, earning a chuckle from him then I'm back against him. A quick tug and the briefs fly off to land on his jacket on the chair. Two more tugs and the socks fall on the jacket. 

I ease back and take a moment to revel in the sight of the most beautiful body I've ever seen; and complete. Two arms, two legs and a cock Michelangelo _wishes_ he could have put on David. Alex is beautiful. Fucking beautiful! A statue of nature's work at its finest. 

His skin _is_ a bit pale, but it's like marble, smooth; broken only here and there by scars that one would say reflect the quality of the 'work'. His chest is smooth, torso nearly hairless save a nice forest between his legs. I like it; shows off the 'equipment' well. 

And he's got equipment, let me go on record right now. He's big. My hot gaze on him makes him swell more, going plump and wide under my stare. He may not be long as a yard but he's a brick house. I bite back a grin. I'll never listen to that song the same way after this. 

He's closed his eyes but there's a smirk on his face. I look forward to turning it into a grimace just before he screams. As I keep gazing at him he shifts slightly on the bed, eyes still closed but the smirk fades away. "Mulder? You-you okay?" 

Yeah. I'm fine. I'm staring at Utopia, how can I _not_ be? "Yes." 

"Um...you going to stare all night?" 

"And if I say 'yes'?" 

Alex's eyes tighten more. "Um...o-okay." 

Oh, this kind of 'playing hard to get' is going to cost him. This time _I_ growl at him as I drop on top of him, shift, jerk the nightstand drawer open managing to catch the tube of Astroglide as it clatters to the floor, all the while my other hand's already found a nipple to stroke. He gasps at my dexterity and wiggles under me then pushes me up turning to bury his face in the pillow. 

"Fuck me! Now!" 

//No. No...not...this...// 

When I grip his shoulders, start to turn him back he fights me, trying to twist away and I get it. He's used to it _this_ way, submitting, being the bottom but never truly enjoying... 

_Shit_! 

A flash of memory, him - me - like this and it all makes sense. For a moment I forget how to breathe. Alex's heart may be fighting to believe but his mind will still do whatever is needed to keep him alive. Even now. 

My dreams gave me an image of only my perception of what _I_ wanted to have and not what he really thought. Alex has never had this, being held and loved, _never_. He's only been fucked and rather brutally from what I _do_ know. Not this time. 

I grip firmer, twist harder and he starts to curl in, refusing my insistence. That tells me _too_ much. "Alex? Alex, please roll over. Please let me make love to you this way. Please? Can I hold you? Can I kiss you while I make love to you? Please? Can I?" 

"No! Just do it, damn you!" 

'I never had a choice,' he said to me so many times. //No baby, you didn't. I know why. Completely.// 

Now I know. Understand. The arrogance, the flippant attitude, the 'get out of my face or I'll rip it off' stance. Know why the ferocity of a Chihuahua can startle. Even the meekest of creatures, when backed into a corner, can turn savage. Alex has lived in a corner all his life. 

They trained you well, Alex. _Too_ well. For both our good. 

An image of my...of Bill Mulder, rises in my mind, lying on the bathroom floor; bleeding out the last of his life in my arms. I see his face, eyes filled with pain and more, regret. Hear him fight to find one more breath, to tell me the truth; absolve himself of all the wrongs and I know now there were _too many_ for me to ever forgive. Realize how many _I've_ added to the mix. 

I am my father's son. _Both_ of them. 

Yes, I know. I saw the file, my name hidden behind that of my sister. Realized why I wasn't experimented on until my own ramblings forced the issue. Why I now refer to my father as Bill. 

Yes...I know. I didn't need dreams to tell me. I think I suspected, feared, the day we met, the smoking bastard's strange, almost magnetic need to be near me, provoke me. I suspected, Alex knew. He paid for keeping that knowledge. The years of guilt flare into pure rage. 

//Why? Why _him_?! Wasn't it enough to use _me_?! Hurt _me_?! Samantha?! _Why_?!// 

Bill can't answer me now but there's one that can. For the love I hold to this broken man in my arms, the love I hold for the memory of a sister, I _will_ make him talk. I _will_! 

The rage builds, a lava flow that threatens to engulf both Alex and myself. Somehow I manage to divert it, move it to a room in _my_ mind, slam a door on it knowing that it won't hold back the fire forever. Know the day it burns down is the day Cancerman dies. 

Something shivers in my grasp. Alex. I hear my name, whispered in worry. Fear. Can he sense my anger? Rage? Feel it directed at... NO! I gather myself, focus back on the fractured sprit in my arms and the fire of anger blazes to love. I owe this being so much. 

No choices? Not anymore. We have choices, Alex, you and I. Tonight I'm going to make the first one. 

I manage to get him onto his back, he lets out a pitiful mew of shame and I realize I love him enough to hate his life, what it's done to him. "Alex? Please. It's...it's okay. Let me... Please look at me." 

He won't so I get his attention the hard way, rocking my hips, and our cocks start a communication neither can resist. Slowly eyes open, see me, realize who I am, and the shame that reflects back at me hurts. He's more vulnerable now than he's ever been. 

I could use it, destroy the thin shred of self-confidence he's clung to through everything but I'd be no better than the cancerous bastard that's tried to rule us both. 

I think about his comment on his dance card, wonder how much of that is true, the balance a desperate need to distance himself from the truth. The pain. If he's been dreaming the same dreams like me, he knows I know. Knows I'm aware of what happened. 

'Do you _really_ want _me_?' he said. I can't _believe_ how _stupid_ I am. 

He starts to wiggle again and I drop my weight, pin him down. He can get away if he really tries but I grin right into those gorgeous eyes and coo, "Let me show you, baby. Let me show you how much I love you." 

He nods slowly, sags into the mattress and stares at me trembling. That's when it really hits me... 

I better make this the performance of a _lifetime_ or I'll destroy him. 

I think about the dreams once more, realize we're safe here in my bedroom. Again, I'm grateful I decided to start sleeping here, Alex didn't plant a bug. I think about the camera outside my front door, suddenly want to walk out, drop my drawers and flash my white ass right at them. Tell Cancerman to pucker up big. I can't but fuck! I sure wish I could. Still, I have what I want, have wanted, for so long. I deserve a moment of victory but that moment would cost Alex his life. I'll never do it. 

Still, I need _something_! 

I shift slightly on the bed, ease my hand where he can't see and slowly lower my fingers until one remains upright; flick a big 'fuck you' to the Consortium in general. You lost you ozone-depleting son of a bitch! Lost totally. He's mine now. Mine! 

Alex murmurs my name and I open my hand to quickly caress his cheek. 

"Fox? You o-okay? Is something...wrong?" 

//A ton of things, baby, but we'll set them right. Together.// I grin at him, nuzzle his nose. "No. I'm fine, Alex. Just fine. Now." He sighs, shifts under me and I know he's waited enough. 

While I'd love to get down to the nitty-gritty, I realize I need to give him my full attention and lots of care. I don't know how long I really take, but I spend a great deal of time holding him, kissing him, lips tracing every inch of his, hands finding places that send shivers through him, quicken his breath. A caress here, slow drag of my tongue there and his body eases against me, accepts what I'm giving him. 

I feel him trembling, heart beginning to hammer with the intensity of lust and need but I keep the desire banked low; make him hold back his. I could just do it, take him and satisfy us both but that's not what I _need_ to do. This _is_. This slow, gentle moment with the one I need to be closest to is vital. To both of us. 

So I take my time, trace every line of his face, kiss him again, tongues twining together, dancing apart, feel the pain, worry, fear - the edge of constant rage soften to less than a razor cut. 

Now... 

I ease up, smile at him then lower again, kiss his neck, track a path of soft kisses along the vein and feel his heartbeat in cadence with mine. I'm not even surprised by that. I _would_ have been upset if it didn't beat the same. 

I trace the length of his body, sprinkling kisses, licks, and soft nipping all the way down to that magnificent vestige of manhood. The beauty of it has been immortalized by Michelangelo, Da Vinci, every artist yet here, in this reality, is the truth made priceless. No image every printed can truly encompass the elegance of form laid out before me. 

I'm waxing poetic again? Of course I am. Show me any being that has ever been in love that couldn't do this. Stick around and I might recite Longfellow, Shelly, Keats and Frost for you. But...yes, I need to focus. 

I think to the dream, my direct if passionate attack on him and realize I need to save that for later. Instead, I ease down slowly, begin peppering gentle kisses along his length, feel him pulse against me, grow thicker, harder, hear the sharp intake of breath and know what he wants. 

Slowly I ease my mouth up over him, pause and wait. He hasn't exhaled yet. I know he might pass out if he doesn't. //Okay.// Slowly, I lower my mouth... 

...a take him right up to his balls! 

The air in him blows out in a booming howl. 

Oh yeah! 

I could get him off hard this way, think of the dream, but that's not the plan. I just want to get him close, want him to know what I can do and give. I want him to know this is _his_ , will always be there for him, no need to be greedy. I also want him to know how _good_ it can be. When it's given in love. 

I move slowly, head bobbing in a even, relaxed rhythm; feel him rock with me and know he's pushing it. My hands come up, press on his hips, hold him down. //Uh-uh, baby. Not yet.// He mews in frustration but doesn't fight back. Good boy. 

I reward him easing my tongue upward, brush over the head and flick gently at his oozing slit. _He_ gives me a tear of his love. The taste of him, salty and sharp, slides over my tongue and I freeze in shock realizing something... 

I've never done this before. Never. To no one. 

I'm shocked, mouth dropping open and Alex slips from my grasp. Thankfully, he doesn't look up, merely sighs waiting for my next move. I'm relieved, because I'm frozen immobile. Realize that without planning to, _I've_ been waiting as well. 

_For him_. 

All the times I had sex (well, the few times I did) it was always on _my_ terms, me leading the way; me doing the fucking, never letting myself be touched. I never offered, never realized why. Now I do. All the videos, all the years, I wasn't merely reliving a need...I was studying. Waiting for the day of my greatest exam. 

Alex. 

I swallow slowly, the thick drop of his essence slides down my throat and I understand. He said he was instantly addicted. I'm already in withdrawal. 

I want to take him like this, suck him dry but...I...can't! Not...I don't...I want... 

Shit! 

"Fox?" 

The sound, a dove's coo, brings me back to the moment and I gaze down at a pair of liquid green pools lit with sparks of sunlight. Alex sighs, dark lashes fluttering slightly. "Please, Fox. Make love to me. Now." His hand slides over the sheets, finds the bottle of lube and holds it out to me. "Now." 

//Oh, thank you! _Thank you!_ // 

I smile at him, taking the bottle in relief. "Your _every_ wish, Alex. I swear I'll fulfill them all." 

I waste no more time, lube up my fingers and ease down the bed grinning, lift his legs to accommodate me. He shifts them with only a sigh. He's putting a lot of trust in this. Suddenly the meaning of 'performance anxiety' really hits home and I've got some serious work cut out for me. 

Steeling myself to do my best, I let my fingers drop lower, brush the tight puckered opening and ease my index finger in slowly. Muscles tighten, Alex gasps and I freeze against the grip. God. He's so...tight! 

"Um, Alex? Baby?" 

I look up and can't believe what I'm seeing. Alex is now stretched out like an offering to the gods of debauchery. His legs flop down around me, his left arm sprawled over his eyes, his face turned away. The right hand slowly strokes an erection that, in the sexual world, should be declared an illegal weapon. Flushed, throbbing, it jumps at his touch, a thin tear of precum oozing out to drop onto his stomach. 

Talk about your 'eye candy', my _teeth_ hurt, this is so good. Somehow, I manage to roll my tongue back up into my mouth so I can talk to him. 

"Um, Alex? You're very tight." 

He nods at me languidly, hand still idly moving. "Uh-huh. Wa-waited for...you." He stretches under me with a slow moan and his toes curl. "No one else. Wouldn't let...didn't want anyone else. After they... I..." 

He stops, eyes opening to stare up at the ceiling and I say nothing. "After I stopped being _useful_ they didn't touch me anymore. I got... _boring_." 

//Dear god.// 

"The smoking bastard...he never...he didn't want to, he just...watched." 

My throat locks suddenly as pain-filled bile tries to force itself up. My eyes water and I blink hard, move my finger back. Move my hand away. Shit. It gets worse as Alex shifts again and turns back over on his side stopped only by my leg. 

The silence fills the room heavily and I know what I can _never_ do to him - take him from behind. Not like _that_! _Ever_! I can still love him, hold him in my arms, cradle him as I move but never just drop down on him like...like _they_ did. I've had _my_ share of 'post traumatic stress', I won't add to his. 

No, I...he _needs_ to see me, see my face, see _me_ loving him. Know that it's _me_ and no one else. Maybe I...I could take him on our sides, as long as I hold him, let him feel my arms, know it's me caressing him, touching him to pleasure. That I could do, but never, _ever_ will I do _that_ to him. Not even in play. 

If he can't see me, know who's there he could easily kill me. _If_ his fears get the better of him. I know something about fear. I'll keep _his_ at bay. 

Suddenly he's talking, in Russian, speaking softly, pitifully. I can't tell him I know what he's saying, some; can't tell him I've been taking classes, a Berlitz school not far from work. He'd never understand why I'm interested, beyond trying to get information from his ramblings. That's not a partial lie either, but mostly...mostly I want to be able to talk to him. _Really_ talk to him. 

He's going on about how hard he tried to protect me, Scully, even Skinner. How he wanted to tell us the truth; Cancerman using him, testing him, abusing him. How he wanted...wanted to tell me how he felt. 

_I'm_ really tired of talking. About this. About anything. For now. 

"I waited, Mulder. Never let anyone touch me after they...they stopped. Didn't want..." 

I press my hand to his hip until he rolls back and slide my finger in deep; wiggle it slowly. 

//Time to _stop_ talking, Alex.// 

The rest of his words dissolve in another slow moan that sends goose bumps up my body; the implication of what he just said hitting me dead in the gut. Alex has been more than inactive, he's been damn near celibate. At least as far as this. I'm sure he's had _some_ sex - a blow job here, hand job there, what _he_ could control, but not _this_. No. 

Instead, he's been waiting. Waiting for _me_ , wanting _only_ me. I can't believe it, almost don't _want_ to. _No one_ should be this devoted to someone at the expense of their own needs, pleasures. 

I know how that sounds but he's not me. _I_ spent the better part of my life hiding from the one truth I knew from the start - the one that would have freed me from a terror far greater than any I've seen since. I've _always_ believed in the alien, the unknown. I've yet to perhaps believe in myself. 

Alex's words from the dream (perhaps my thoughts?) float up in my mind. 'He's a loner who doesn't want to be alone'. I now realize just how true they are. I've _never_ wanted to be alone; always wanted _someone_. Thought, for a time, I knew what I wanted, realized I didn't; tried to pretend what was there was what I needed and when it wasn't, tried to turn away from it all and lived so very much isolated... 

...from my heart. 

This trap was of my own doing; _my_ fears and insecurities placed me in this ditch. Now perhaps I have someone else to help me dig free. If I can first help him. I _need_ him. As much as he needs me. More! Maybe Alex doesn't realize it but he's a loner too; much more one than I'll ever be. I have Scully, Skinner in a way, by my side. Who does he have now? Besides me? 

I wanted to plant a tree. I know sometimes it takes some help to make sure it will grow, many hands helping to tend the soil. It's Alex's hands I need working with me. 

So here I am, with one of my greatest foes ( _former_ foe) beneath me. Waiting for my touch, my love. Needing only me to fulfill his deepest desires. I can't comprehend... 

And I'm clearly unsure how I earned it. 

No...I _don't_ want to be alone. Not anymore. 

I suppose it no longer matters. The 'now' is all I'm concerned about. I return to what I'm doing, getting him ready all the while my eyes lock on his. Gauging his pleasure as I thrust first one, two then three fingers inside him. Grin as I curl them slowly, find the gland that has him bucking against me sobbing for more. 

I'm no doctor and I've been a long time from _this_ side of the woods but I can tell he's not damaged, torn. Guess the smoking butcher didn't want his prize messed up. Must have warned his sleazes what would happen if they hurt him or worse. One reason they wore condoms. Lucky them. Still...if I _ever_ find any of them... 

Fortunately, a deep needy groan rises up and I focus on what matters most right now. Alex. 

I wish I could make this last longer than the few seconds it'll take once I'm in that sweet, tight ass of his but I'm no superman. We'll just have to make up for it later when the shock wears down. Later... 

Oh yeah, there's gonna be a 'later'. Put your money down on it, folks, you'll win big! There'll be a 'later' or Alex is going to need Scully's services a lot longer than he expected! And sooner! 

I ease my fingers out, slide my hands up under his thighs and lift, gasp as his legs rise up and wrap me tight. God...I hope he's strong enough to take this. I can feel the thinness in the flesh, they're lean, muscles sinewy; but they're gripping me fiercely and I know they won't let me go until we're done. 

Like I'd _want_ them to! 

I grip my cock, hunt for that beautiful place I want so badly and slide in, his body opening to me so sweetly I have to focus on his face to keep from coming. The shock of his heat, slick muscles wrapping me in, draws a raw groan of pleasure from me. 

"You're mine now. Belong to me! Only for me!" 

I know the happy smile on my face takes any sting and insult clean away leaving a unique truth of the words. The _real truth_ only he and I can decipher. His hand snakes around to the back on my neck and pulls me downward. 

"Yessssss. _Only_ for you." 

Yes. Only mine. Just as I belong to him. Just _him_! 

My mouth finds his and I realize it without a further doubt. I love this man. I _love_ him! And I'm going to make him come, hard and screaming my name in six languages like he did in my dream. Then I'm gonna do it again. And again. And again! 

_He's mine_! I intend to make damn sure he knows it. Make damn sure he never wants, or lets, anyone else touch him. I'm gonna mark him like he's _never_ been marked before. I'm going to carve 'Fox William Mulder' right into his heart... 

...with my cock! 

I ease down, gently balance my body against his, slip my hand under his head to cradle it and wrap the other around his waist. He sighs, nuzzles my face like a cat and I suddenly wonder who's marking whom? Then he starts to move under me and I fight every urge to lift off him when I feel his hipbones dig into mine. He's still too thin for my comfort but I can't stop now. He needs this, to know I'm telling him the truth. He has to trust me again. 

I have to trust _him_. 

I hold him close, rocking into him slowly savoring each gasp and moan with all my soul; each sigh imprinting itself into my heart. I can't really let him go, can't let him be hurt. Not ever again. I _will_ let him leave when this is done but he'll know why. And why he'll never really be free of me. Not now. He's mine and I'm his. I'll stand with him now and always. 

I move us slowly, hips rocking with a gentle rhythm I know I've never done before. Not with anyone. I need this but not as much as I thought. I'm gonna come, no doubt; so's he, but this means more now. I want it to be good. Really good. I don't feel the same madding need to hump his brains out I felt before. Instead, I need to lock him to me - heart to heart - in a way that defines this moment for us both forever. 

I slow down, stop, feel him trembling under me and he cries out. I keep my head down, mouth gently licking, sucking at his neck, marking him softly without leaving a trace. He's never been touched like this, I know from my dreams. He's been raped, drugged, used, beaten, maimed - too many things that have left physical impressions on him. Many of those have _my_ signature on them, in part if not outright, but not this time. This is...will be different. 

No one will _ever_ see a single stroke of the whip I'm flaying him with. No one but him. And his soul. 

I can feel him inside, muscles clenching against me, begging me to complete the connection. Finish what I started. I will but on my own time and terms. I suddenly realize I can do this all night. _All_ night. I don't know how but I know. I can love him all night until he screams for me to take him to the edge, release the love and need I know lies inside his battered body. Give him back the humanity the Consortium took from him; the KGB as well, disguised behind a mask of cool, impassionate killing. 

Realizing the task set before me, I begin to move again, still slow and gentle. I lick his neck, tongue washing his skin then nip firmly, teeth edging the threshold between pain and pleasure. He's making soft cries now, little yelps of need. His chest rises and falls in deep breaths (he's so into this!) against me, hips rocking sweetly in tandem with mine. 

Suddenly he cries out, curls up against me wrapping his arms around my back. I know he's not in orgasm yet but I'm shocked and freeze for a moment. His mouth presses my ear and I hear it in his breathing, a soft gasp followed by something so beautiful I have to simply let him say it again. 

"I'm yours, Fox. Only yours." 

Simple words, profoundly revealing. I don't know why he wants me after all I've done, caused him to suffer, but I'll walk through fire now to make myself worthy. 

"Alex? Lay back, baby. Let me..." 

"Yours! Only yours! Fox, please! Only yours!" 

I'm scared a bit by his proclamation _and_ his grip. His left hand's cradling my neck! That's unnerving and I shift gently to move from it. He whimpers and pulls me tighter. 

"Please don't leave me, Fox. Don't leave me. Please!" 

Memories of my dreams flow up, I hear _my_ words in his. I realize I can let _him_ leave but only after he knows _I_ won't walk away on him. He's going to come back once it's safe. He needs me to be there waiting. I confirm my love and my intentions. 

"No, baby, I won't leave. I won't let _you_ leave if you think I won't be here. Here waiting for you. _I will_. You're mine, I'm yours. Now... Ssssh, just wanna love you. Please you. Ssssh, Alex. Ssssh..." 

He seems to calm, whimpers again, nuzzles my face and I feel a nod. "M'okay. Ju-Just love you so much. So sc-scared." 

I understand, I'm terrified myself. We're too deep, too far gone to walk away and not be completely devastated by this - both mentally maimed in a way that can't be repaired. It's all or nothing now. He's the one brave enough to give voice to it. 

I _said_ he was stronger than me. 

I rock into him again, let my body settle down, tongue tracing a wet, hot line over his lips before my mouth eases against his ear. I need to say it, need to let him hear it again. 

"I love you, Alex. I _love_ you." 

He trembles in my arms, a sweet vibration followed by a slow gasp like the sigh of a lost soul. I stop and wait. _I_ need to hear this time. He whimpers, shifts under me; a physical demand for me to move but I need to hear this, these words. Need to badly. "I love you, Alex," I murmur rocking once to emphasize my declaration. 

Alex moans, a deep tiger rumble that ripples under his skin, through mine and _I_ gasp this time. Then he says it...the words I dreamed to hear in a moment like this. Knew I'd never. 

"Ahhhh...I l-love you. Love you...Foooxxxx..." 

//Thank you, baby. _Thank you_.// 

I start moving again, keeping it gentle but sure. I want him to know...need him to know. I _do_ love him. Now I need to truly show him. I shift, roll my hips and start to push his prostate gently with my cock. He arches, gasps and my name flows up in a soft Spanish sigh. Ummm, yes. I shift again, drive hard and he barks it in German. 

Two down, four to go. 

//Oh god, yes!// 

I can't tell him I know my name in seven languages. I made sure to find out its definition after the first dreams. I know it in what he's already said including Russian, French, Swedish, Greek and Italian but I also know Alex is crazy enough to toss me a curve in something obscure. I'll take what I've gotten so far. 

I pick up the pace, move into a sweet rhythm he picks up on instinctively. Now we're moving as one, sweat covering both our bodies with the effort. I free my right hand, manage to get it wet with saliva and start to gently stroke his nipple. He responds with a raw howl, bucking under me but I haven't gotten him closer. He's holding back, keeping himself on the edge. 

He knows! God, he _knows_! I said I could do this all night. He _knows_. He's trying to keep pace with me. The knowledge fuels my love into an inferno and I start to move like a piston. He deserves to come...now! 

"Oh! Oh, Fox! Yes...ahhhhh, God! Yes!" 

My efforts trigger a wild response. His body starts to writhe under me, cries filling the bedroom; groans raw and deep bounce the walls. His left hand slides across the bed, finds the edge of the headboard and squeezes it in the powerful grip. I wince at the sound of wood cracking but I can buy another bed any time; this moment between _us_ will never be replaced. Still, I'm grateful he's aware even in the heat. If he'd grabbed _me_ like that... 

On my part, I won't touch him. I won't have to. I know he'll come this way. I don't have to stoke him to take him to orgasm. This alone will give him what I need. 

My love. 

I slide over his prostate and he bucks under me, sobbing with joy, trembling on the edge of madness. I roll my hips and find him again, harder. My name explodes from his lips in a Russian and French roar of pleasure. Still, I have to do more to show I mean this - that this isn't a sham. 

Slowly my hand slides away from his head, up the bed to glide over his left, pull it free of the wood. I hope he didn't get splinters as I ease my fingers over his. 

His eyes snap open, pupils so dark the green is irrelevant, and focus on me. I smile back, weave my fingers through his drawing a weak, shaky gasp. I squeeze gently, encouraging him to return it. He realizes I'm putting my neck on the block, hoping I get a stay of execution. As his fingers slowly close over mine I think we're both getting a reprieve. 

When this is over I'm going to tell him I'm leaving the Bureau. I can't work against him now. I'd never be able to fight everyone's need to bring him down, his old bosses with him. No, it's time I went underground. I can help him fight better if I'm fighting _with_ him. 

Yes, when we're done I'm on his side now. Together we'll stop the Consortium. One way or the other. But for now... 

I pick up the pace, sliding in and out now in sheer strokes of thought; telegraphing my love with every deep thrust, piercing his body, his heart, his soul with my love. I barely hear the door open, barely register the squeal, " _Oh, my god_!" as it slams shut. 

I have a brief thought of poor Scully and how I should have a neon sign added to the wall saying 'no admittance when light is flashing'. The thought makes me laugh, wild and delirious. It's not the only reason. 

Alex is shouting my name now and I swear he's added a seventh language. Is that... _Chinese_?! Doesn't really matter, I don't need translations. I know what he's saying. I'm screaming it too. 

Suddenly we reach. Understand. We've needed each other all along. Together we'll stop the evil. Together we'll change the world but in this, it's just me, Alex and heaven; and Alex is about to find his own Nirvana. He arches against me as the waves start, his voice going out in a wail I'll remember in my mind forever. 

"Oh, God! Fooooooxxxxxx!" 

* * *

**WHAM!**

"Goddamnit! Shit!" 

Krycek sat up on the floor, eyes rolling around taking in the room in the darkness. Alone. No one here. 

Damn! He'd fallen out of the bed again. 

Rolling over, he slowly pushed up onto his hands and knees, head hanging down for a moment as he drew in hard breaths. His cock ached, deprived of the release he'd come so close to but the pain and the erection begin to fade in the reality of wakefulness replaced by something more direct. 

"Oh, god...five nights in a _row_! I've got to be outta my fucking mind!" 

Five nights in a row (on top of how many _weeks_?) dreaming about _him_. Mulder. Dreaming _he_ was Mulder. Watching himself collapse in the man's apartment, being nursed back to health and later seducing his _own_ body. Dreaming of his lips, his tongue; the sweet feel of his lean body moving against him. The deep undulating cries of pleasure parting from lips made to be kissed swollen. The tight heat that rippled against him. The howls of raw desire bouncing off the walls. 

_His_. All _his_. Howls all due to his body writhing wildly under Mulder's. No...under _his_. Or? 

//Oh... _fuck_!// 

He pushed up from the floor and sat on the bed's edge clicking on the small lamp on the nightstand. He stared down at the bed. It was a mess, sheets pulled up from the edges, the coverlet hanging by a thread to the bottom, and two pillows were half-way across the room. 

Man, he must have been really lost in this one. The queen-size bed didn't look very appealing at the moment; not that there'd _been_ anyone else to share it with. After all, who'd what to sleep on _this_? With _him_? 

Well...maybe _one_ person might. 

//Okay, I'm really in a fuck now. I'm loosing it completely.// 

His fingers slid over the worn coverlet. Why not? He'd done nothing to stop the dreams. There was plenty of booze in the fridge, enough to drown away any pain; a half-ounce of pot hidden in the bathroom tank could finish the rest. One joint, a few beers and no problems. So why _hadn't_ he done something yet? 

A sudden image of him screaming, arching violently, cock pumping cum all over his writhing body flashed through his mind. 

//Oh, _yeah_... _That's_ why.// 

He sat there and finally gave himself the freedom to admit it. He wanted this man. Knew it and accepted it. Maybe Mulder felt the same. 

He remembered his collapse, Mulder's worry, his brave protection and defense against Scully; and more, her final support and aid from that defense. Both of them letting him leave. He remembered the passion more, Mulder's concerned, caring face as he made love to him gently, carefully, the hazel-eyed gaze the only thing he saw through the waves of ecstasy. The memory of expressed need followed by wild screams came next. Krycek blushed and focused on a different memory. 

Mulder had confessed to dreaming as well. Was it possible? Could they both be so well linked now, either by need alone or alien intervention, they knew each others thoughts? Sending out their own? To each other? Well, _he'd_ been infected by the Black Oil; Mulder, by that and god knows what else. 

He thought back to the night he'd drugged the man, tainting his water. From what he'd learned from his late ally, the one he'd called 'The Brit', Mulder was a hybrid now; infected with enough alien DNA it triggered latent abilities of telepathy. While Mulder had been on the stairwell ready to blow him away, he knew _his_ thoughts were being easily read; Mulder's expression as they stared at each other telling more than any words they could express. 

Then he, Krycek, was running away. Again. But the thoughts of the other man had invaded _his_ for just a brief moment. Thoughts so raw, so desperate... 

...so needy. 

Mulder? Who else would know how to get inside his head? 

//Like I have to even ask that.// 

This dream _had_ seemed more vivid, more deeply detailed than the others. Neither of them had even had sex together but it seemed, at least in his dream, that Mulder's interest equaled his own. Had he somehow tapped into the man's mind that night? Sensed his need and drew on it. Or...had it really _happened_? 

He'd been weak during that time; exhausted, dehydrated, feverish, perhaps, dare he believe...delirious? It _had_ been some time since that encounter and hard to remember amidst all the madness he'd endured since. Sadly, there was no way to know for sure and Scully would be of no help. She'd more likely shoot him than answer if he and Mulder _had_ 'had it off'. 

No, no it never happened. Not like that. No, he remembered. He'd been running, yes, was exhausted, true; but not from that. He'd been worn down from an infection, the constant rubbing of his artificial arm finally wearing a sore he'd not been able to properly treat, his natural fear of hospitals and physicians keeping him from getting help. He'd tried to do what he could but the oozing flesh, the pain nauseating him to stop. He was still searching for the rebels then. So how could Mulder have known... 

His left hand flexed involuntarily. Mulder _couldn't_ know. Could he? Images moved in his mind, Mulder reaching out to touch the limb, stroking it, fingers idly caressing, knowing the sensations were driving him wild. If the dreams _were_ messages, shared... 

Mulder _knows_. 

//Then, if he knows _that_ he knows... Oh, god.// 

Another image rose up unbidden, twisting in Mulder's bed, trying to submit as always; the automatic response to subliminal triggers he'd yet to purge, horror and memories canceling out everything. Mulder pleading for him to relax, let himself be touched... Loved. 

//God, no. Nooooo...// He staggered backwards, bumped the wall in shock. 

Mulder knew. 

Moaning in shame, Krycek dropped his head, rocked slowly. 

_Why_ had he gone there anyway that night, walked right into his nemesis' home? He remembered. To tell him he'd turned on the Consortium; tell him he wanted 'in' again. To ask him for...help. 

//Oh. My. God.// 

He remembered being sick, weak from the fever, lack of proper rest; the pain of the inflamed stump keeping him up and food for some reason then a sickening sight. Remembered entering Mulder's apartment, being surprised. Remembered falling, hitting something, a white-hot blaze of pain and darkness. Remembered whispered tones, worried voices. A word. 

Septicemia. 

Remembered days in and out of consciousness; hazel eyes looking down in concern, blue eyes staring in muted anger. Remembered waking, feeling better, revived, the pain a distant memory chased away by a clean, sterile bandage. Remembered seeing Mulder nodding in a chair to the side. Remembered rising, pulling the IV's out of his _right_ arm, dressing, pulling the empty shirt sleeve close. Remembered slipping out padding past Scully, the woman's back turned to him buried deep in a blanket on the sofa. Remembered wishing he could thank them both and knowing he'd never be able to, running wildly into the night. 

He'd been forced to leave his gun, not knowing where they hid it, but he had access to more. A fact of dealing in death was having an endless supply of those who could provide for a price. He had the money. The gun had been replaced quickly with a far better one. Still, it surely must have given Bureau Requisitions a bitch to update their records after so long. That knowledge made his lips turn up. 

But what about... 

Mulder had been there, in the bedroom. Had he really...then sat up to watch over him? It _was_ something the man was fully capable of doing but what if this time it was his own desperate imagination concocting one more thing to accuse the 'fibbie' of? Mulder raped him, right? Or did _he_ do the raping? 

Did he really want to know? Not really. Dreaming it was disturbing enough. If his thoughts were shared, Mulder knew all about it. Would never have... 

Would he? 

No... 

For once Krycek decided he didn't want to guess. Not this time. What he _wanted_ was... 

//Ummm...oh _yeahhhhhh_...// 

He wanted Mulder, honestly and openly, but he needed to be sure. Know for sure. Mulder would never have touched him like that normally yet he'd said he loved him. Said it several times in the dream. A message? Did he know how _he_ felt? The dream seemed to confirm that as well. 

Krycek had seen many things over the years, things that had terrified him, sickened him yet he could no longer doubt anything. It was possible, given their mutual exposure to alien testing, that they were now linked; each thought, feeling, shared and passed along. That frightened him more. There were a _great many_ secrets he _didn't_ want divulged. 

It was hard to accept but if they _were_ sharing hidden feelings... //Well, he'll never come here, to you, either way. _That's_ for sure.// 

Sighing, he critiqued the bungalow's bedroom. It was a decent size complete with unassuming furniture purchased at local Salvation Army stores and other discounted places - cash payments, load yourself and no questions asked. 

The local U-Haul office had cared even less. He'd had a valid license (one of many, of course), insurance and paid for a full week, returning the truck in four days; the gas tank filled and even washed it. They merely asked if he needed it longer. 

The bathroom was roomy if modest. A large, deep, claw-foot tub also served as a shower, fitted with an aluminum framework hung with a wrap-around curtain. The sink was an industrial hair salon style, deep and perfect for shaving. The black and white tile of the walls and floor had an old-time look that drew him in and nearly made him take the place with nothing more to look at. 

Until he saw the back yard. That sealed the deal. 

It was full of small dogwoods and led off to a thick crop of woods. A quick zip out the back door of the kitchen and he could vanish to another section of neighborhood and escape. 

He hadn't had much problem renting the place; the real estate office took the six-month's advance payment and handed off the keys with little more than a list of numbers to call for emergency repairs. It was a nice place in truth, last house on a cul-de-sac on the far suburbs of Alexandria with only five other houses near. The neighbors kept to themselves and he kept away from them. He'd made the choice for privacy; the woods in the back his getaway support. 

Sleep now a lost cause, he rose and wandered down the hall past the white walls, feet working over the soft beige carpet - plain, simple; a distinct change from the designer shaded walls and custom colored rugs of his previous digs. 

He stopped in the living room, stared at the swinging door that lead to the modest kitchen with its small preparation island and sighed. It was roomy enough to fix meals but miniscule compared to what he'd had: a huge kitchen with a six-eye range, two full-size ovens, an industrial fridge, walk-in pantry and fully-stocked wine racks. 

He sighed again, it wasn't worth remembering what he didn't have. It only made it hurt more. 

The living room was the same style of decor - a discount sleeper sofa, coffee table, a few chairs, random paintings and a mini-stereo that wasn't even close to bass-thumping but he rarely listened to music here. Too risky. A bit too much noise, a fussy neighbor and he'd have cops swarming all over the place. His safety would be in jeopardy. 

Besides, this was all temporary. Like many places he'd lived in since being driven out of the Bureau. Since betraying the Consortium. 

Since becoming the 'hit man' of the universe. 

Still, he missed the penthouse apartment in downtown DC; missed the broad deck, the gourmet kitchen, the huge master bedroom and bath, the sunken living room complete with wet bar and the high-powered home theatre system. He missed the soundproofing even more, being able to crank up the volume and dance without worry of being interrupted; but being a triple agent meant moving. Constantly. No time now to have anything nice. 

Except the Lexus. 

He'd refused to get rid of that. Registered to an alias even the Consortium hadn't tracked, their interest more on his resting places than his mobility, and not counting the wealth of funds he had stashed in banks all over the country - carefully drawn on _only_ when needed - it was all the evidence he had left of his one-time life. Except for his feelings for a certain soft-haired, wild-eyed seducer in an Armani suit. 

Maybe, if he was lucky, _Mulder's_ feelings were raging too. 

//Yeah, if I'm _lucky_. If I _am_ dreaming all this, _alone_ , he'll kill me the minute he sees me.// 

Even in the dark he could see the hole in the far wall; the one he'd made after one of his more wilder dreams. The anger the raw need left had to be quelled somehow and the wall was the best end. 

He remembered that dream, a time from his Bureau days, confronted by yet another 'wise-ass Mulder moment'. He woke just as angry storming from the bedroom, snatching a cool one from the fridge and three gulps later his fist punching out the wall. It did little for his mood, the throbbing knuckles afterward only helping to sour his day. Tearing up a 'safe location' wasn't a good call either. 

He made a mental note to go to the hardware store, find some plaster to fill it and a can of white paint to hide his effort. Better than paying a repair fee if he ever moved. 

Maybe _when_ he moved. With someone else? It would be good. There _was_ safety in numbers. He wanted that but did _someone else_ want it enough to give up his job? His life? His...friends? Maybe. It sure wouldn't be easy if he didn't. It would definitely stir up more concerns on how stable old 'Spooky' Mulder was. Nope, not easy. 

Then what in either of their lives _had_ been? 

As for himself, Krycek knew the Consortium would hound him for this latest betrayal, worst shoot him on sight, but he didn't care. He didn't owe them anything. Not anymore. He still played the game but they were sure to figure it out soon if they hadn't already. He could use some back up. The only back up he'd ever wanted. 

No, this wasn't going to be easy. It really didn't do to plan too much. After all, everything hinged on something... _someone_ else. And if that someone wanted what he did as well. 

He'd have to wait and see; play out each day as it came, but first, he'd need to wave a white flag. He stared down at his pants, the shirt buttoned across a buff chest, glanced over to the leather jacket on the chair that accented the look and smiled softly. 

Mulder had wondered that night as he lay on the sofa, the agent's curiosity that he slept in his clothes a question waiting for an answer he never gave. The agent wouldn't have understood that when you might have to suddenly flee for your life wondering where you hung up your pants might be enough to get you killed. 

Well, he was dressed now and besides, who needed a fucking _flag_? This would just have to do. Somehow, he thought it'd do fine. 

Then again, if he _was_ wrong, it was exactly what he wanted to be buried in. 

Rushing back to the bedroom, he tugged on his boots. Grabbing the jacket and his keys, he dashed out slamming the door shut. 

* * *

Number 42  
2630 Hegal Place  
Alexandria, VA  
Friday 

As the elevator door opened, Krycek triggered the jamming device and walked down the hallway stopping in front of apartment '42'. Twice he'd started to turn the car around, twice he kept on driving. It was just after midnight on what was to be a nice clear Saturday. Surely even the _Consortium_ wouldn't waste a good day like this hunting for him. Right? 

He stared at the door and thought about the man inside. Why worry about his old bosses when the one person he should have called 'friend' would happily kill him _for them_. Maybe. Maybe not? 

It didn't really matter. He needed answers. Mulder might actually have them. If not... 

//Oh, well. Here goes... _everything_?// 

Hoping his next move wouldn't get him killed, Krycek drew in a breath as he lifted his hand for the door when it opened. He took a step back in shock then his jaw dropped. 

Mulder stood before him dressed in black jeans so tight they seemed more painted on than real. A black shirt clung to his chest and a wild lock of hair dangled enticingly over his eye. Big bare feet toed the woodwork of the floor like a cat kneading its favorite spot. 

He felt it then, the heat, that radiated off the body before him. Sex heat. The same heat he felt as he walked through the clubs, the few times he bothered; heat radiating off each and every man he passed as they thought, imagined, _dreamed_. Now the one and _only_ man _he'd_ ever wanted was fairly on fire with it. 

//Holy...oh, shit!// 

Krycek tried not to look down, fought not to gaze at the front of Mulder's jeans, accenting a bulge that seemed to inflate more before his eyes. Too late. He felt his own jeans shrink a good three sizes in the crotch and knew he was in trouble. Trouble he hoped _this_ time, he'd really enjoy getting deeper _into_. 

Grinning, Mulder leaned slowly against the doorframe crossing his arms. He flicked his head, the lock of hair swung up, slowly slid back over the eye and Krycek had to brace his legs to keep from collapsing. Shit! Hazel bright with lust bored into him, full lips parted over a smoky, monotone purring with pleasure. 

" _Just_ what I was _dreaming_ of." 

God, so it _was_ true! He'd been dreaming as well. Krycek blushed, thinking back to _his_ dreams and wondered if Mulder's had been as bad. As good. He nodded, the emerald eyes looking hopeful. "Me...me too. I've been dreaming too, I mean. I..." His voice trailed away, lost. 

Mulder stepped back. "I think we need to _talk_ , Alex. We're alone here and safe. For now. I know about the jamming device. I know neither of us can be seen or heard right now. I also found the bug. It's doing a deep-six with the fish. By the way, thanks...for feeding them. Kinda clears up why you were around. Why you kept sneaking in." 

They both knew the fish covered for a more important reason but neither remarked on it. 

Krycek, still stunned, managed a loopy smile. Mulder _knew_ about the jammer and he'd found the bug; knew where to look. Why was he surprised? After all, dreams were messages and obviously theirs both had told them a lot. He doubted if _Mulder_ even knew what was happening but either way it was time to learn from them. He nodded. 

"You're...welcome. Mulder." 

"It's Fox, Alex. Please. I think, ah, I think I'd like you to call me that. Now...won't you _come in_?" 

"I..." Krycek shifted, a rabbit feeling the hawk stooping down towards him. Who _else_ was in Mulder's apartment? Waiting? He couldn't trust... "Mulder, I shouldn't..." 

"Alex?" 

Krycek looked up and found the hazel gaze warm and hopeful. It loosened something tight in his chest. "Yes?" 

Mulder pushed the door open wide and smiled so broad it was stunning. "I'm alone. You're _safe_ here. Please." 

Slowly the younger man's face cleared, grew confident. They were both smiling as Krycek entered, paused to nod carefully before moving into the room. 

Mulder sighed happily as he closed the door behind him. 

End? 

* * *

Again, I apologize for any formatting and grammatical errors. It's hard to count boo-boos when you can't stop typing. 

'What's In A Dream?' was actually meant to be a single stand-alone work but I felt there was more to say. After all, Mulder hadn't had a chance to talk and we know he talks. A lot. 

So, is this the end? Are the dreams finished with our boys? Want more? Then feed me, baby, feed me!!   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Lashala


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